The Threat from the Deep
by CassieG66
Summary: The SW/fantasy story takes place in medieval times on an unknown, vast planet called Horukaan and I am only using the idea of the Sith and Jedi.The characters, the customs, the races, the places and the languages have all been invented. The underlying theme is the uprise of the Sith Order and Sith philosophy.
1. Prologue

Prologue

In the deepest corner of the galaxy, a lone, vast planet called Horukaan revolved solemnly around two suns. It was the home of many hundreds of thousands of humans, all of who lived their ordinary little lives, each regarding their own domain as separate worlds. As a consequence of the Great War, which tore the nations and lands apart, the world was torn apart and the people of Horukaan lived in discord, each nation and land keeping to their own domain and minding their own business. In the aftermath of the Great War, after the Dark armies had fallen, the world believed light would finally rise and spill over the world, setting things right and bringing harmony and peace even to the farthermost corners of the vast planet.

The Jedi, warriors of light and protectors of the people, rebuilt their Order and continued with their noble mission. Living behind the mines of Mangora, in the Jedi Temple, which had been built by their predecessors and which survived the War, they educated children in the ways of the light side and continued with their lives, studying the ways of the Force and trying to bring peace to the world.

What was once a vast Droddian Kingdom, a nation of warriors, split into many separate lands and colonies after the Great War and several of them remained living on the First Continent. The Caelian nation remained living in the Oceanic Land of Lateen, choosing, as before, not to meddle in the business of other races. Living lives of devotion to science and the study of magic and alchemy, they lived their extraordinary long lives away from the squabbles and arguments of every one else. The Malaskians, who were cheerful and carefree by nature, lived in many colonies all across Horukaan, trying to pick things up where they left them before the Great War ravaged the planet and brought famine and misery to everything alive. And the Albinians, who were the most dominant race of them all, mixed freely with others, many of them founding brand new societies and choosing to go back to their old ways, when everything made sense.

Once the Dark Lord of the Second Age, who started the Great War, disappeared in the far Land of Gnath up north, everyone breathed with relief. At last it seemed that the evil retreated back into the pit where it came from and went to sleep. For many decades it was indeed so. Life went on; and the wheel of life, which always turned, without regard to the misery or happiness of the people, continued turning. For many decades the suns rose and set, seeing the same face of the world and being witnesses to the common lives and worries of ordinary people.

One day, however, a stranger entered the Land of Gnath, looking for a life he never had. This stranger had everything; and yet he yearned for more. He had seen the world and he was not satisfied with what he saw. He wanted more; and he dared to want more. The red mist of the Land of Gnath parted before him and a spirit spoke into his ear, telling him about the wonders of Darkness, about its power, about its beauty. And the stranger without a name accepted the hand proffered to him. He did not know what he was looking for until he found it. In the deepest night, the stars trembled as the Black Flame was ignited once again and a mortal hand lifted it to carry it back to the world and once again bring glory to Darkness. He was given the title of the voice of Darkness on the face of the world; and at the beginning of the Third Age, a new Dark Lord arose and carried the Black Flame to the kingdom of Gotan, the Kingdom of snow and ice, where he would found the new Sith Order, find an apprentice and educate him or her in the ways of the Dark side.

Only the Dark Lord did not find just one apprentice, but two. They lived in isolation, studying the Dark side in secret and preparing themselves for the task which stood ahead of them – for the Darkness to rule the world once again. Growing up in tears, sweat and pain, the Sith apprentices were forged into powerful warriors, well attuned to the will of Darkness and able to hear its whispers.

The Force trembled; and one Jedi master saw a shadow in the skies and heard a whisper in the trees. No one wanted to believe in the existence of the Sith on Horukaan and his warnings were ignored by the Jedi Council. But as the skies grew darker, the Jedi Order was forced to acknowledge the threat and they spread out in search for the mysterious Sith, to help once again to cut off the head of the dragon of evil which had awoken from its centuries long sleep.

Only it was too late. The world was slowly consumed in Darkness and the light they had kept burning even in the darkest of nights extinguished. As war simultaneously broke out on all continents and as allies of the Dark Lord slowly took control over every one living, the Jedi were finally confronted with the truth and acceded to partake in the epic battle for dominance, driven by their sense of duty toward all people as their protectors. The last stand of the Light took place in the Land of Padorrian; and Light was extinguished by the hands of the Sith.

Darkness fell on the world; and the first Dark Empire had been born.

This is a story about their struggles, their sweat and blood; but also about their triumphs and their great deeds which had been written down in history. It is a story which follows the Sith apprentices and the Dark Lord of the Third Age as they set off to do what no one had done before.

_Through power I am born, in silent twilight; in fire and torment I am forged, strengthened through trial; and in the eternal Darkness I shall find my rest, in its mighty embrace._


	2. Chapter1 - Part One

CAP. I – The Waking Dragon

Deep shades of blue suffused the violet as the silver sparks announced the setting of the Horukaan's largest sun, Cyrron, leaving the other sun trailing behind, shedding insufficient, ghostly light on the garden beyond Tarralyanna's window. She watched it with a light smile hovering upon her lips, as she felt cold touch of silver upon her forehead. Her handmaiden placed an oval jewel embedded in silver upon her forehead and fastened it gently behind her head. Tarralyanna stood unmovable, feeling her black and violet hair being combed aback and adorned with silver hairpins, considering with pride what happened during the past few days.

"There, my Lady," said the handmaiden quietly, backing away with her head bowed, as Tarralyanna slowly got to her feet, examining her reflection in the large iron mirror that hung above her dressing table, turning her head around and watching joyously as the jewel on her forehead beamed at her in the light of the torches burning all around the room. "I shall get your cloak and shawl immediately."

"And the serpent armband, Peetah," said Tarralyanna softly, smiling at Peetah's new way of address. It felt so good, she noted. And so very odd. Peetah never called her that before.

The handmaiden emerged form the wardrobe with the shawl and cloak draped over her arm, scurrying across the thick, warm carpet, and carrying a small box which contained the armband. Tarralyanna extended her right hand to her, and watched the dwarfish servant attach it to her biceps, smiling down upon her. This offered her immense satisfaction. As Peetah looked up at her, Tarralyanna caught a hint of fear in her eyes.

"It is a great day, Peetah," she said quietly, "You ought not to be frightened of it. A great day for a Sith apprentice indeed."

For a moment, it looked as though Peetah was going to burst into violent tears and fling her arms around her; after all, she grew up with Peetah, who was her personal handmaiden since she was a little girl, and who knew her best; who had witnessed her tantrums and her temper outbursts, and who nearly got killed by by little Tarralyanna dozens of times, each time because the Sith lost her temper or was searching for a person to lash out after one of her Master's particularly painful lessons. But she never saw Peetah in the state of such fear and shock. Peetah was very well aware of the fact that Tarralyanna was perfectly entitled to kill her any time, if she desired to do so.

"You have been very patient and good to me," said Tarralyanna, leaning toward her, at what pea-sized tears started flowing down the dwarf woman's cheeks. "I know it was your duty, to be there for me, and that I had your life at disposal, but I want you to know that you served me very well indeed."

"Oh, my Lady," sobbed Peetah, "You sound so grown up!"

"That is because I am," laughed Tarralyanna, turning her back to her and making Peetah realise she wanted her to drape the cloak over her shoulders, what the dwarf Malaskian woman quickly grabbed hold of it and pushed a footstool toward Tarralyanna. She climbed on it, placed the cloak over the shoulders of her mistress and tied it up under Tarralyanna's chin.

"I do not want to be late," said Tarralyanna, taking the long, silk shawl from her servant and wrapping it around her neck – a beautiful shade of silver fading to black at both sides and glistening ominously in the torchlight, "Tammutyen is already done and he is waiting for me."

She could feel her brother approach the door of her chambers and linger there, smiling at what he felt was going on in the chambers.

At the door Tarralyanna paused to look at her servant, a meter tall chubby thing with a round, comely face, coming from a race of servants called Malaskians, who were quickly enslaved by the superior races. Peetah wore a long grey tunic with worn out trousers peeking underneath and wearing sabots which made her slightly taller than she was, so that she could assist Tarralyanna better; however, they did not help much as the Sith knight was towering over her. Peetah bowed her head and managed to mutter only a feeble 'my Lady' before the Sith knight was gone through the door, leaving a thick cloud of perfume behind her. As the door closed behind her, Peetah burst into tears. She knew Tarralyanna since she was three, since she was brought here to the Temple by the Dark Lord and since Peetah was assigned to her, to care for her and to serve her. And despite of her attempts to murder her and injure her, despite of the fact she was mostly successful with the latter, she still loved Tarralyanna as though she was a daughter of her own.

"Tammutyen," said Tarralyanna, coming out of her chambers, and offering her hands to him, who took them at once and pressed the both of them to his lips, smiling at her. He could sense his sister's joy, and it was overwhelming. He could also sense her power; it was a like a cloud surrounding her, and he was proud of her, so very proud and so very curious as to see where her power will get her, how it will manifest. He caught a glimpse of her only once after the knighting ceremony, but it was insufficient to note the change in her.

"Tarralyanna," he whispered, raising his glance to meet her sapphire eyes. "You look and feel better than just well."

"Thank you," she answered in a quiet, dignified tone, smiling softly at him. "We must go. We should not keep Master waiting."

He turned on the spot and offered her his hand, beaming at her, his cloak swishing in his wake, which he hitched away with a wave of his other hand. Together they set off down the corridor. The Temple, where they have spent the last twenty-three years was mostly uninhabited, with the exception of the servants, who went about their work quietly, sinking into shadows as soon as they would see a Sith approach, fearing them and evading them whenever they could. The corridor leading from Tarralyanna's chambers was a wide one, with a high ceiling that made host to a few chandeliers which were dripping with candles, long snakes of crystal hanging from their bottoms and dispersing the light into thousands of wild sparks that chased each other over the walls and across the ceiling. The walls where made out of dark grey stone, dotted with racks shaped as claws that held torches, which were leaning toward the carpet that covered the cold stone floor.

Tammutyen was made a Sith Lord a year before she was, and this surprised and infuriated her; despite of all that her Master told her, about her time being different, that this meant nothing, Tarralyanna still felt more critical about her work than ever. Tammutyen on the other hand never said anything, but there was a wild twinkle in his eye every time he would be addressed as a Sith Lord, and she as a Sith apprentice. It drove her mad; so mad, that it took her ages to calm down and realise that this resentment and wild craving for the title was actually holding her back. Of course she could not help herself, having grown up with Tammutyen; but she could know better, she now realised; she could have acted more maturely. Being harsh to oneself, and analysing oneself, is one of the virtues of the Sith, her Master taught her. It is easy to be proud and arrogant, if there is something to be proud of and a reason to be arrogant.

Together they arrived at the tall, iron door leading into the hall where they would have dinner with their Master; Tammutyen cast one glance at her and then pushed the door gently open. There was a table set in the middle, draped in black, with tufts solemnly hanging off toward the floor, and weaving slightly in the draft. Tall, narrow windows laced the other side of the hall, letting in bits of the silvery-purple light through the thick velvet curtains that were parted only just – their Master did not enjoy well-lit rooms and their own sensitivity was nothing compared to his. It was his price for the use of the Dark side. The hall was very warm as was the rest of the Temple for the comfort of the Sith, and kept warm by the fires that crackled quietly and humbly behind their grates, as though not to disturb the ominous silence and the greatness of the Sith warriors that now walked in.

They environed the table and came to stand over their places, which were unmistakably theirs, with a black candle set before each, and a personal emblem pertaining to each adorning the tall candlestick. They lingered a little, trying to agree on whether or not they should sit down, and in the end decided to remain standing, as this was no ordinary occasion, what the arrangement of the chamber clearly showed. It had been arranged in this fashion only once before – after Tammutyen's own knighting.

They did not have to wait for long, because the following moment a tall, intimidating figure of their Master walked in through the double door on the opposite side. They came down on one knee each, and knelt so in silence, unmoving, listening to the echoing footstep on the marble floor, before the footsteps gently faded away into nothingness. The Dark Lord paused by the table.

"Rise, my apprentices," he said softly. They did so, and now watched him come behind the table, drawing back his chair and sitting down with dignity. "You may sit."

"So," he spoke softly, looking across the table at them, who kept their glances bowed, Tarralyanna's jewel set low on the forehead giving a violent glint as she bowed her head. Their Master was a tall, well-built man, but who bore a subtler note of muscle mass than Tammutyen, who was shorter and stockier than he was. His dark eyes were surveying them across the table, his fingers interlaced upon the table, his silver plate before him, quite empty and waiting.

"Tarralyanna," he spoke softly, fixing his gaze upon her; his voice was penetrating and yet there was a note of fondness in it as he addressed his apprentice, what Tarralyanna noted with pride. "Have you decided what do you want me to make for you?"

It was a custom of the Sith Lord to give his apprentice a gift as he or she was knighted, and Tammutyen chose a brooch, which his Master crafted out of tendoziil, a precious, vibrating, semi-alive, almost mythological metal that could not be found anywhere, or so the legend said. But apparently, their Master found a place to dig it out, made a brooch out if it for his apprentice, and charged it with power, a luminous black grape-like structure bearing words of power engraved upon the back of it. It always rested on Tammutyen's breast, either on his cloak, or on his robes, whichever he was wearing. He would take it off only before going to bed, and then kept it in a silver box, wrapped in silk. Tarralyanna thought about it long and hard ever since she returned to her chambers after the Ceremony and evenutally thought of something.

"A pendant, my Master," she said, lifting up her glance. Her Master lifted her eyebrows, lifting his hands to call for the servants.

"You already have one, my apprentice," he said softly, pointing at her chest, where her new medallion was resting.

"A sword-like pendant, touched by the flame of Yyllen, Master," said Tarralyanna humbly, hoping she would merely be laughed at or ridiculed, but that she would not be completely turned down. She would not forgive herself if she did not at least give it a go.

Yyllen was the fire burning atop of the highest tower of the Temple, and was said to be the heart and soul of the Sith Order, its soul being kept alive for aeons that way. Its still burning flame found their Master in his search for the ancient Sith glyphs and writings, following the legends, burning on its own for centuries, a magical and legendary treasure of the Sith Order that once existed, and which their Master sought to re-found, after years of its sleep and dormant existence in the depths of the world. He brought it to the Temple after he built it, along with the ancient teachings on the Dark side and artefacts of power, such as swords and jewellery, only a few of which he allowed his apprentices to see, keeping the rest to himself, and well hidden. Unlike the two of them, he did not have a living master to learn from – he had been chosen by the spirit of the ancient Dark Lord who once existed when he found his tomb, amidst the barren wasteland of the volcanic mountains of the south, where he lived and spent years in communion with the spirit of the ancient Dark Lord, until he learned enough and came back to the world with his knowledge of the legacy of the Order.

The Dark Lord raised his eyebrows. He honoured the old traditions, worked on the renewal of the Order and worked and lived by the old Sith code; but what Tarralyanna did not know, was that a master was entitled to give his apprentice a gift she or he requested, whatever it was. And as it was, he was very amused with her choice.

"A Sith by birth," he muttered, smiling to himself, many servants now trooping in behind his back, and carrying food on silver trays atop of their heads, which gave the impression that the food was floating in the air, "I know just what to make for you and how."

Tarralyanna stared at him in surprise as he leaned toward the table, now secretively smiling to himself. She did not dare look at her brother; but she knew he was astounded as she was with their Master accepting of her request. Tarralyanna never told Tammutyen what she wanted as her gift, she never got the chance; but Tammutyen was as startled with her cheekiness, as was their Master, and was certain that he would laugh at her and call her impertinent once he heard what she was asking of him. But, as it seemed, he thought, he was very pleased with her indeed and he accepted her request.

"I shall advise you, though," he said, sharply waving off a Malaskian woman who cowered in fear before the Dark Lord, thinking that he would perhaps harm her, with him merely desiring to show her that he had enough of wine in his chalice, "not to wear it around your neck, as it would be an inadequate and immoderate placing of power, clashing with that of your medallion, but around your belly."

"Oh," whispered Tarralyanna, staring at him, her mouth a little open in surprise. "Of course, my Master."

"Yes…" muttered the Dark Lord, still thinking about it, "Very well. The flame of Yyllen it shall be."

The servants trooped out and the door closed behind them, with the silver plates and trays spread before them and emitting welcoming scents; the two waited patiently for their Master to begin to eat, and then followed his example. Tammutyen, or the black hole for food, as Tarralyanna sometimes called him, was starving as usual, and now shovelled a mountain of meat on his plate and began to devour it with as much dignity as he could muster. Their Master taught them to always eat what they felt like, and never bother what it was, or in which succession they were doing it; soup after salad, dessert only, or meat only, as it was the case with Tammutyen, it did not matter. Thus Tarralyanna dipped her fork in her salad and began to chew slowly, feeling the explosion of taste and energy she needed so much fill her – this certainly felt different, she thought, her heart beating excitedly. She did not exactly eat a lot after the Ceremony, and this was her first proper meal.

"Consequently, my students," said the Dark Lord, after he laid aside his own silver fork and regarded them across the table, finding with immense pleasure that all of his plans got a shape in these two, the two humble students who obeyed him even in their sleep. "You will find that Tarralyanna's knighting is important for another reason as well."

They allowed themselves to look at him, and to appear startled. The Dark Lord's mouth stretched into a handsome smile of pleasure. At times like that, Tarralyanna could not stop staring at him.

"The Sith Order, as I have sought to reform it," he spoke in a vibrant, powerful tone, now giving them an impression that he was about to say something immensely important, what they could not read that in his mind, because it was, as often, or most of the times, an iron fortress, "lives through you. I have taught you and educated you as I have been honoured with the task of igniting the sleeping torch of the Order once again, and bringing its glory back to life, and to Horukaan. But it lived in the shadow; it waited, and it slept, like a powerful serpent gathering up power to stand and face the enemy. Now, my students, the Sith Order shall come out in the open, into the public."

Thunderous silence accompanied this unexpected proclamation and the two gaped at him, not knowing what to think. Surely, thought Tarralyanna, Horukaan would kill itself trying to destroy it, to destroy a menace that a Dark Order represented growing within its very heart. But, their Master, as they knew, was a ruler of a mountain range province, a seemingly quiet and (to the plebeian eye) cruel and wayward ruler. They asked him about it, as they have never been allowed out of the Temple, and could merely gaze at the city wall beyond the Temple built on a lone precipice, overlooking a terrible gorge in which Tarralyanna used to drop stones just to see whether it had a bottom (it did not, as it seemed). Did the people know he was the Dark Lord of the Sith? Only his closest servants knew, he told them – his assistant, and perhaps a dozen more. But that was all. To everyone else, the intimidating, dark grey tomb-alike building was his home, and no one in the right mind would disturb him in it.

"I shall present you to my closest circle of servants first," the Dark Lord continued, "and you shall act as I say."

He looked from one to another, and then reached out for his chalice, a small frown dawning on his pale face.

"Well?" he said softly, "Do you not have anything to say?"

"Master," said Tammutyen instantly, as Tarralyanna opened her mouth but no sound came out, so startled and shook she was with this statement, "May we ask – may we know – what is it that you intend to do? With… us, I mean? Do you – have _war_ plans?"

"Indeed I do, my young apprentice," said the Dark Lord with a hint of laugh in his sonorous voice, "Many, many beautiful war plans, each bloodier than the other, and I am sure you will like all of them. Though there were times I have perhaps doubted my choice—" he looked pointedly from one to the other, obviously referring to their failures and their tantrums which he managed with an iron fist of discipline – it was either apprenticeship to him and a flawless one, or terrible death. "I have not regretted choosing you as my students. You have made it this far. I shall trust you to be my hands and the executors of my will in this – and trust, especially _my_ trust, as you know, is a very fragile thing indeed. You will be venturing beyond the safety and protection of the Sith Temple for the first time in your lives, and the garishness and disharmony of the world beyond it will come as a grand shock for you. But we shall discuss this tomorrow, and I shall warn you of all that I consider important. For now, no wheel shall be set in motion yet, until I finish Lady Tarralyanna's pendant. Her insignia must be complete before she draws back her hood and stands by me as my student."

"My Master," she uttered in a small voice, breathing quickly. "I shall not disappoint you."

"I hope not," answered the Dark Lord, pointing his knife at her and then putting it down, pushing away the small plate on which he was cutting a pear. He laid his both palms on the black cloth, indicating that he was done with the meal.

Simultaneously, the three Sith lifted their right hands, and three Sanguae rose from the centre of the table, the deep orange and scarlet fruit which was traditionally eaten at the end of their shared meals, and landed gently on their plates. The fruit grew on small, knobbly trees which grew only on the volcanic ground, leaning and twining in all impossible directions, growing literally from the hot lava, bearing the spirit of fire; its taste was wonderfully sweet and sour at the same time and it bore the spark of the Dark side within it. It symbolised the very spirit of the Sith Order – growing on wasteland, where no man's foot ventured, where no common man could tread, because fear and mortal danger scared away everyone bold enough to come even close, drawing energy and life from fire and dare, from rage and steely will, defying death and decay. And yet, it was beautiful – its leaves were leathery, heart-shaped and dark green. Sometimes they were used for wrapping food for the Sith by the cooks, and its fruits, the perfectly round scarlet-orange orbs, were cherished and eaten by the Sith. The Sanguae grew like mad on the edge of the Pennyan gorge, in the closeness of the three Sith and their constant use of the Dark side, growing to be their food and nourishment, a symbol of what they were, of their principles and their ideals.

Once the Dark Lord dismissed them, Tarralyanna and Tammutyen retreated to the terrace and sat down under the night sky of Horukaan to discuss the development of matter. A lot has happened during the twenty-three years they have lived at the Sith Temple; but this, they felt, would be very much different than all their adventures in the Dark side.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Eternity passed between two blinks of an eye as the cup slipped through his fingers; and the eye of an old man saw ages pass by, flicker before his weather-beaten eyes, which wrinkled his already wrinkled forehead, creasing it until it resembled the bark of the tree growing right under the balcony. As the cup finally crashed down upon the stone floor, he averted his glance away from it and sighed.

"Master Bakku," said a voice beside him. He looked up wearily. The eyes of the young man standing in the doorway travelled from the pillow upon which the old man was sitting, to the cup that lay smashed into millions of pieces on the floor, and then finally fixed upon the glowing orb before him. His expression grew more concerned.

"What is it that you have seen, master?"

"There are shadows… but none which might concern us. There have always been shadows," said the old man. The young man swept away his robes and came to sit beside him, taking a long look into his eyes, before the old man lowered his glance once again and stared at the floor seemingly in search for an answer.

"I have seen nothing in the Seer-Orb," he went on, at what the eyebrows of his student flew up in the air, because he was certain that his teacher had seen something terrible in the depths of the Orb. "No, no. I had dreams… terrible dreams. One of which involved Wannum Ferth."

"_The_ Wannum Ferth, Master?" asked the young man, gasping, "But he died… what, eighty years ago! He was a legend!"

"Indeed he was, my young student, indeed he was," answered Bakku, nodding seriously, "He told me… that the teachings of the Dark side had been passed on… that at last someone worthy had been found to receive them, someone powerful enough… that I would know it, by the rain; that I would see it, in the sky; that I would feel it, in the wind."

The young man fell silent, not knowing what to say to this, thinking that this was a load of nonsense, something so vague and so fantastic it could have belonged to a fairytale. But the old Bakku was wise and no one really knew his age; he witnessed the passing of the ages, and he saw the Jedi Order flourish. But Bakku was also famous for his poetic speeches and for his wild fantasy, like that of a child. Sitting like that, on a pillow, wrapped in a blanket, with his colourful braids peeking under it and falling to his feet, he most certainly resembled one, thought the young man. Bakku frowned a little, as though sensing the young Jedi's doubts and reluctance to accept what he had just told him. He directed his gaze toward the window, lifting a gnarled hand.

"Look, young one, look," he whispered, "Look at the clouds. Have you ever seen such force driving them? Have you ever seen such razor-sharp cuts between the clouds, such clear forms, something so unnatural? Have you ever felt the wind blow so strangely? First with all its force, and then dying away completely, as though it had never blown? And do you know how many days has it been, since we had rain?"

"If the teachings have indeed been passed onto someone," said the young man at length, trying to be wise in all that nonsense, averting his glance from the sky which looked perfectly normal to him, although it was true that they had a long draught on their hands, "would we not feel it, in the Force? Would not the Force bend to fight the inflow of the Dark side, what we would perceive? There are not but few of us, master, as it was when you were young. A hundred of us would feel something… would we not? I am not disputing what you have heard, master, I am merely thinking about it myself, trying to weigh the possibilities and think about it… No one has ever taught us how to perceive whether some creature far away is using the Dark side."

"That is a very serious flaw in your education, young Jedi," said the old man, giving him a quick smile, his braids dancing around his head and reminding the young man of branches of a tree bending in the wind. The old Bakku's stories about the Dark Lord and the Dark side were famous, but they also caused frowns and annoyance among the older masters – they thought those were merely reminisces of an old man who has seen a lot in his life, and they were partially right. "But if it is true, we must think of that… what if it is true? We must explore all possibilities… I must inform the Council… And as for myself, I shall travel. Yes, that is for the best. I shall make myself useful that way."

"But where will you go, master? You do not know anything for certain," said the young man surprised. He was very fond of the old, cheerful Jedi master. He would be very sorry to see him go somewhere, especially at his age, when such a journey might just as well be his last.

"When I see it, I will know I have found it," said the old man shrewdly, avoiding the answer, and now gathering up his blanket around himself. "Neither does the river know, where it will end up, and yet it flows, hoping that it might find an ocean to pour into. So shall I."

The old man got to his feet and hobbled inside. The young man lifted his glance to the skies, shaking his head. He saw nothing out of the ordinary there. But perhaps he did not know where to look. Perhaps, he thought, he was just too hard on Bakku. He had seen terrible things in his life, and it had not been easy for him. It would be natural to begin seeing ill omens at his age, and yet again..


	3. Chapter 2 - Part One

CAP. II – The Knighting Gift

Tarralyanna woke with a gasp, clutching at her chest and breathing deeply, the candle by her bedside flickering in this sudden movement. Tammutyen opened an eye and squinted at her.

"Humph," he groaned, reaching out to her and catching her by the cold hand. "A nightmare?"

"The fire," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It flickered!"

Tammutyen propped himself against his elbows and surveyed her slender figure silhouetted against the warm, yellow glow of the candle, sitting bolt upright in her nightdress, her medallion rising up and down as she breathed quickly. If her words did not not make an impression on him, because of their vagueness, then her emotional state certainly did. Tarralyanna was not easily disturbed – she was a Sith and complete control over her emotions has long been accomplished. His expression grew a little more serious. Tarralyanna was a great Seer and could feel things in the Force he could not.

"The fire of Yllen?" he asked quietly, watching her carefully.

"Yes… no…" she whispered back, thinking quickly how to interpret her dreams. "There was an echo… a powerful echo… an ancient echo, from the deep, from the very core of Horukaan…"

"Could it be the master of our Master?" asked Tammutyen, sitting up.

"It is possible," she answered, rolling aside, picking up her nightgown and wrapping herself in it.

She stepped out through the door leading to the terrace, squinting in the wind that carried dried needles of the trees that grew beneath their bedroom, a part of the Temple that was not leaning toward the gorge. The sky was a mournful dark blue, with violet fading away as Luth, the second sun, just descended into its bed behind the horizon; violent wind was sweeping the land of Gotan, the mountain province of their Master. Nevertheless the night was very warm. But for the Sith, it was never warm enough, and living in the mountains certainly did not help. She pulled the nightgown closer to herself and crossed her hands on her chest, looking toward the horizon, the spot where her jewel normally rested on her forehead visible as a drop-sized mark on her skin, her ringed hands trembling in the cold.

Tammutyen appeared in the doorway of the terrace, bare from waist up, exposing a magnificent torso, as though carved out from stone. A medallion bearing the symbols of the Dark side was falling down his chest, whereas his strong arms were resting on the frame of the door, as he watched his sister gaze out in the night. His back was covered with a large tattoo, stretching from one shoulderblade to the other, and down to his bottom, whereas on his right arm he bore the mark which was branded into his skin when he was a child by his Master, with iron heated in the fire. It sealed his belonging to him in this particularly painful way, especially for a child, and his forearm bled many days afterwards, as his Master pressed the hot iron deep into his flesh. His long, thick, black hair was falling down his back, and was now dancing lightly in the wind.

"Tarralyanna," he whispered, coming from behind her and gathering her up in his arms. It did not help, she found; it could not make her forget her dream. She felt it, it was so real, the whisper, the pain… and yet, there have been whispers in the Force before and Tarralyanna heard them all. Sometimes it was a great burden to her.

"Yes," she answered, hearing his thoughts. "I shall tell him. First thing in the morning. But the last thing that I want is him to think that I believe he did not hear it, and I did."

"Our Master is occupied with very serious work, my sister," he said quietly into her ear. "His ears are not turned toward the whispers in the Force. It is possible… that he did not hear. And he would want to know. It was his task, the renewal of the Order… and it is his task to keep it alive. He would want to know. It is true, he is unforgiving – but he knows his priorities."

"It seemed almost as though," she spoke, after a pause, in which he was kissing her swan-alike neck, embracing her from behind and caressing her elbows. There was a particularly large and nasty scar on his left forearm, which he earned when he was twelve in a duel with his Master, when he punished him for his mistake. "There was a warning, a stir in the Force, an ancient Force… yes, that would be it. A voice from the past."

"Write that down," Tammutyen said firmly, backing away from her and pulling out a cigar from his pocket, which always miraculously found their way into all of his pockets of almost all robes and clothes he possessed. "I shall wait for you here."

She smiled at him, kissed him on the cheek and fluttered inside, her hands still crossed over her chest. Once she was inside, her forehead furrowed in thought.

When she was gone through the billowing curtains, Tammutyens expression grew a little graver. He flexed his arm and examined his latest scar, that was healing badly and scratched absent-mindedly at it, the smoking cigar between his teeth. The treetops rocked in the violent wind, which was growing steadily stronger. It almost seemed as though it was trying to tell them something. He twined his neck around. The flame of Yllen was burning as steadily as ever, its indigo flames souring high in the air, leaving black and yellow wisps of smoke around as it danced in the wind. It was tall and majestic, so powerful and so sturdy, so constant, so lasting. Always, even in the worst of weathers, in the most terrible of nights, it stood fast and prevailed, as though it meant nothing at all in comparison to the glory of Darkness. Would the time change? Would the wheel of fortune turn downwards, and crush them?

oooooooooooooooooo

And in the morning, all seemed so very different, Tarralyanna thought; there were no whispers, no phantom pain still pulsing within her, no shadows she could not understand. She was standing in the vast, majestic training hall with her brother, now thoughtfully examining the chain of her weapon and adjusting it, before she pursed her lips in determination and took her position again. Tammutyen had just descended from a rope on which he was practising, breathless and bathing in sweat, and paused a little to watch her.

Tall and slender, the quiet and solemn Tarralyanna did not look much of a Sith warrior; but that would be the impression one would get before seeing her in training. The Saragon, traditional Sith weapon deadlier than a sword, which consisted of two spheres with many blades protruding from each in every direction connected by a thick chain, was flying around her head so fast it was a blur. Stooping and rising, jumping, sliding forward with it, but never dropping it, passing it from her one hand to the other, wearing leather straps on her wrists to avoid injury at the most likely place, Tarralyanna was a wonder to look at. Wearing light black trousers that she had tucked into her boots, and a tight top to ease her movements, she was displaying her sylph-like figure in its full glory; and despite of such appearance, her strength and speed were formidable. Amplified tenfold by the Force, she was a dancing serpent to the tune of battle, and nothing she did seemed hard, if one would judge by her movements; none of the leaps or somersaults, none of the spins or ducks, or that constant spinning of her weapon. Her long hair was bound atop of her head and tightened so it would not trouble her. She, too, like her brother, bore the branding mark on her forearm, whereas her other forearm was covered with a tattoo running down to her wrist, a magnificent ivy and leaf structure of luminous black that seemed to fit her arm perfectly.

"Your efforts are inspiring today, Tarralyanna," spoke a voice from the doorway. She stood doubled over, still holding the Saragon in her hand, but at that she got down gracefully on her one knee.

The Dark Lord lingered in the shadows for a few more moments, before he made a determined pace forward and surveyed the both of them with a sharp glance, walking with his hands behind his back, his pace echoing in the high-ceilinged training hall, with the gleaming black marble constituting all of its sides, even the ceiling.

"Your mind is troubled," he said a little more softly, "Tell me."

Tarralyanna did not linger for one moment and began telling him all that she had sensed, all that she had heard, kneeling on one knee and staring at his feet as she spoke. He listened, his expression undecipherable, with Tammutyen watching it carefully for a change of emotion, straining his Force senses to perhaps catch an astray thought. But his Master's mind was a stone fortress as always.

"Rise," said the Dark Lord as Tarralyanna finished her story in a quiet, but clear voice. The Dark Lord turned away from her, his robes dragging after him as he walked, now advancing on Tammutyen and casting one glance at him, but then turning away from him, too. Instead he headed for the small bench in the corner where he would normally sit to observe their training and lowered himself there.

"Continue with your work," he said. There was no helping it, they knew; they could not find out what he thought of this, nor would he tell them anything, now that he obviously decided not to speak about it, and all that they could get if they asked would be punishment.

Tammutyen stepped forward with his Ptah, a double-sided, double-edged sword that was not overly heavy, but extremely complicated to handle, as it was over sixty inches long. A piece of grazed metal constituted the middle, crafted so that it would not slide out of the grip of a warrior using it; then the weapon began to spread toward each end into a sharp blade from either side. Tammutyen had wrapped a piece of cloth around the middle to help him hold it, as this was the trickiest part, he found; as a boy, he used to constantly drop it and found this very annoying, which was why he tried for years to strengthen his grip. He was holding the Ptah with his both hands for a moment, then with his right hand, to pass it to his left behind his back, to somersault with it held pressed against his belly so that he could both achieve a forward spinning movement and not to be troubled by the length of the weapon. As Tammutyen was moving with his Ptah across the hall, Tarralyanna jumped down from the rope she was exercising on and looked in her Master's direction.

He was sitting calmly and following Tammutyen with his glance. At some point he suddenly extended a hand and froze Tammutyen with the Force in mid-air, so suddenly, that neither Tammutyen nor his sister had seen it coming. He rose to his feet swiftly, his robes swishing in this fierce movement.

"You must see the Ptah through the Force, and not with the use of your eyes, my apprentice," he said in a seemingly indifferent tone, but with a subtle note of impatience that told Tammutyen it would be a very good idea to quickly master what he was trying to warn him about. "You must not be a body that is weary and strained, that is flying through the air on the wings of the Force. You must part with your limited senses and capabilities, be the Force, and feel with it. And you will feel that the Force shall make it easier for you, if you surrender to it. You should focus on the annihilation of your enemies and not on your feelings and your thoughts."

He approached the frozen Tammutyen, who was glaring at him from above, blinking and trying to memorize his every word. The Dark Lord paused.

"Will sharp as a razor," he added, looking up at his floating apprentice.

He pointed a lazy finger at him, and Tammutyen got lowered down upon the ground, where he came to stand, spun the Ptah in his hand and looked toward the Dark Lord, expecting an order to continue.

"Prepare for another exercise," said the Dark Lord, nodding at him seriously, "Tarralyanna. Your turn."

oooooooooooooooooo

One hour later, frowning deeply, his nose twitching as the pungent scent of the antiseptic filled his lungs, Tammutyen was sitting on the edge of a stair in the training hall, with his sister sewing the wound on the side of his stomach. He was very grumpy.

"Never before has he spoken to me like that," he whispered so that only his sister could hear, who was bending over his wound and was now piercing through his skin with the needle, dabbing the blood away with a bit of her robes she tore off. In the end, as it was the case on rare occasions when the Dark Lord wanted to prove his point, he sent a dozen knives flying at Tammutyen, which chased him around the training hall. Some of them found their target.

"He is planning something," she whispered back, glancing furtively toward the door through which their Master passed on his way out, but it was no use trying to look around for him, as he could be eavesdropping through the Force, as he had done many times before. But Tarralyanna had managed to sense him on a few occasions, which accomplishment made her exceedingly proud of herself.

"Either that," said Tammutyen, gritting his teeth, but not letting on that he was in any kind of pain and trying to make his voice sound smooth and calm, "or he is very concerned about what you told him."

"Might easily be true," said Tarralyanna, straightening up after she bit off the end of the thread, and was tearing her robes again, to make a bandage. "But I had to tell him."

"Yes, I know," he said softly, "I do not blame you, not for a moment. He demanded of you to tell him."

She tied the cloth firmly around his middle and then tapped it gently.

"There," she said, "That should do it. Given that, you will work on the healing of the wound yourself, of course."

He let out an angry snort as an answer and picked up his shirt, putting it on.

"I should better try to remember what he said," he said, putting the Ptah back into its sheath. "I do not want this to happen again any time soon."

oooooooooooooo

That evening, Tarralyanna was reading a book her Master last sent her in the library and was making notes on a parchment spread before her. Tammutyen was frowning in the corner, immersed in a large volume on anatomy. Tarralyanna still thought often about her dreams, and the scraps of it kept floating around in her mind. However, through the mist of her thoughts and unanswered questions, she heard the call of her Master and she put down her quill quickly. He had never summoned her this late. Tammutyen looked up from his work and raised his eyebrows at her, picking up the cigar from the ashtray beside him and blinking at her quizzically through the smoke that veiled his head.

"He is calling me," she whispered.

Tammutyen looked at her with obvious sympathy as she quickly got to her feet, draped a cloak over her shoulders and headed for the door of the library, not looking back. She quickly strode down the numerous corridors of the Temple. She knew the layout of the corridor labyrinths by heart. And she knew where he was – in his study, a spacious, cluttered with books, dark room at the top of the tower. She practically ran up the stairs, drawing up her robes to herself, with the few servants scampering off at the sight of her and fleeing into the shadows. She reached the iron door with a large knob in the shape of a dragon's head and lifted her hand to turn it, but the door opened on their own accord. Filled with anticipation, she slipped soundlessly inside.

Her Master was seated behind his desk, with a tottering pile of books set to his left, their pages so ancient they looked as though they were a moment away from turning into dust. A small wooden frame was resting on his right side, with engraved numbers and symbols along the sides of it, for purposes unknown to her. Beside it was a bowl containing a strange silvery liquid, containing a bobbing egg-shaped object that was emitting wisps of smoke. Tarralyanna closed the door behind her as he looked up and approached the desk in a few paces, lowering herself to her one knee. Her Master put down his quill.

"My Master," she said very quietly, "You called."

"Yes," he answered, "I have, Tarralyanna."

"Lady Tarralyanna of the Sith Order," he said softly, leaning a little forward, with her now staring at his robes, "I, the Dark Lord of the Sith, your Master and the rightful owner of your life, your teacher and your guide in the ways of the Dark side, have finished your knighting gift."

She looked up at him, holding her breath.

He was holding a small bejewelled box in his hands and lowered it into hers.

"May it be a reward for all of your hard work," he said softly. Then he straightened up and turned away from her.

"Rise," he said over his shoulder, coming round his desk to sit down again, and pointing toward a chair in the shadows, where she headed obediently, staring at the box. What was it? She opened it as she sat down, and her Master smiled at her impatience. It was a small, two inches long pendant, made out of tendoziil, the precious, legendary metal Tammutyen's brooch was made of as well. It was shaped as a sword pointing downwards, with a loop at the top so that she could wear it on a chain. The hilt was made out of something that resembled lava, dark red and gleaming from the inside, whereas the metal itself was hollow. Something warm pulsed in its depths, just itching to be touched. Tarralyanna lowered the pendant on her palm and examined it. It was vibrant with the Force, booming with power, a silent, lurking kind of power that was calling to her, that came alive in her hands. But it was more than that. It seemed almost as though it was a living thing, a thing that could think for itself, a relic of some kind, full of ancient might.

"Tendoziil, the precious metal of the gods of war and wisdom," said the Dark Lord, leaning aback and bringing the tips of his fingers together, "forged in the immortal fire of Yllen, and filled with its flame that will give you a connection with all of the Sith Lords that ever lived, including me, our guidance and our support. It will amplify your power, and it is indestructible, even if thrown into fire. Should you ever find yourself in captivity, threatened by your enemies and wishing you could die, you only need to swallow it. You will pass into the Force and leave your body painlessly behind."

"But…" she began, at what her Master gave a short laugh. Her thoughts were an open book to him.

"Tammutyen got exactly what he asked for," he said in a tone of amusement. "He asked for a brooch made out of indestructible metal, not knowing I knew the secret of tendoziil, and knew how to make it. He wanted the brooch to make him more powerful than he already was, and to be a knot of concentration of the Dark side. And I have made it for him. You wanted more than that. You did not want to have an indestructible object that would ease your command of the Dark side. You wanted more than that. You wanted the flame of Yllen."

"You do not seek to be just powerful, my wise student," said the Dark Lord, leaning forward, his dark eyes glittering, and surveying Tarralyanna who was sitting with her mouth slightly open and staring at her Master, unable to say a word. "Nor do you want to have it the easy way. You want it all; and you give all."

"Master," she whispered, "I never thought you would actually give me what I requested."

"You asked, like a true Sith," he said softly, "and you received. Wear it around your belly, Lady Tarralyanna. Now go and tell Tammutyen that I shall be absent for two days. However, a meeting with the few of my servants shall be organised soon, and you two should get ready for it. Work hard in my absence."


	4. Chapter 3 - Part One

Disclaimer: I am merely using the ideas of the Sith and Jedi for my story and don't own anything.

Moving along to Chapter 3... As the two young Sith start exploring the mountain province, I have the chance to describe the land and its customs and shed a bit of light on the mysterious planet they live on as I have imagined it. Please leave a comment so that I wouldn't feel like I was talking to myself. I already wrote this story and am merely putting it online, chapter by chapter.

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo o

CAP. III – The Secrets of Gotan

Silence fell on the hall in which twelve people have been sitting until a few moments ago, and who now got to their feet as the ruler of the province of Gotan swept in, his black cloak billowing behind him and waved a careless hand at them. They sat down, watching him seat himself at the top of the table and draw himself closer to it. He always kept a good distance away from them, and they were only too happy to oblige.

"I have summoned you all here," he said in a clear, ringing voice, strengthening their conviction that there was something grave and sinister at work, that there was something terribly important that he wanted to share with them, "because I have something to tell you all, something of tremendous importance."

Everyone stared at him in expectation, with the general of his army stirring in unease, a gruff, broad shouldered man with a thick tuft of hair and clear, light blue penetrating eyes, giving away the impression of an ill-kept lion. The secretary looked down with unease on his hands and swallowed. Surely this cannot be good, he thought. The Chancellor was staring at the notorious ruler with a quickly strengthening sense of foreboding.

"I have shared my secret with you twelve," the ruler went on, giving a quick smile, as though thinking back of this legendary moment, in which he let out his full power to show and had the whole twelve of them kneeling before him and trembling in fear as they felt it for the first time. His cloak was a ripple of Darkness and thunders boomed within the depths of his eyes; the room went dark all of a sudden, the flames of torches extinguishing on their won; the windows flew open, and the curtains billowed as thought trying to rip off and escape. It was a great and terrible day indeed. They have all heard of the legends of the Sith, and knew they were something like semi-gods, that they could kill with thunder and throttle without the use of their hands, using their minds only, but they have never, ever believed they would see one. Their Lord was notorious for his temper and for his strict laws, and known as a man who liked to keep to himself, who never had a wife, and who spent most of his time locked up in his tower, a tomb-alike structure no one dared approach; but nothing in his behaviour or appearance would have suggested that such power was hiding within him.

"You know me for who I am," the ruler went on, seemingly unperturbed by the stirs and shivers that spread through the table at the mention of this, a fact they tried to ignore and never speak about unless he broached the issue himself. "The Dark Lord of the Sith. But today I am going to share another secret with you. And I shall ask you to keep this secret as well."

Anything that they might have wanted to say was left unsaid, because no one could bring himself to say it, being scrutinised by that terrible, piercing glance. He can read minds, too, the general reminded himself with a pinch of panic, and quickly bowed his head.

"I have educated two students in the ways of the Dark side," the Dark Lord went on, causing everyone to gasp or simply stare at him. "They have been taught by me and they have lived with me for twenty-three years. And now at last they are ready to come out in the world, and stand rightfully by my side."

He looked around the table, and saw nothing that surprised him; no one could say a word. Their thoughts were a torrent of fear and panic.

"Prepare to meet them," he said with a mysterious smile, leaning aback a little as though to savour their astonishment. "For they are here." He glanced over them then nodded sharply. He closed his eyes for a moment; he must be calling to them, thought the Chancellor, his throat going dry.

The door at the back of the room, through which the Dark Lord would normally come in opened, and two figures stepped in. They were dressed in long black cloaks, just like their teacher, who was now glancing over the twelve people before him, rather than looking back at his students, who silently filed in. They were hooded, and their hoods almost completely obscured their faces; the first figure was that of a very strong man, broad-shouldered like the general. He was walking with ease, giving away great agility and strength of body; whereas the other one was terribly slender, like a willow, and more glided than walked.

"Lord Tammutyen," said the Dark Lord, smiling softly, at what the strong man stepped forward and lowered his hood. He was wearing wide robes underneath the cloak, similar to those of his teacher, but even underneath all that it was clear that he was as strong as an ox. He was bearing a number of large, quaint rings, a jet-black brooch with which he fastened his cloak under his chin, and a thick chain which he pushed inside of his robes. Atop of his head he was wearing a thin band dotted with jewels that might have been made of a number of metals, as it was not of the same colour everywhere, thought the chancellor, uncertain whether he should get to his feet. It went all around his head, and connected at the back, seated on his wild, black and braided hair. Now the Chancellor could definitely see some resemblances. First, the clothes; then, the jewellery (and his Lord seemed to be fond of all sorts of jewellery); and there was his student's hair, which he also wore very long. The young man's eyes were dark and glittering with life; his features were noble, something the General did not expect to see in a warrior. Despite of the first impression, however, he thought, he could have hardly been playing with toys all day long, because a nasty scar across his smooth, boyish cheek spoke the truth about his occupation. He was standing bolt upright and proud, surveying everyone his glance, quite calm and unperturbed, almost to the point of cheekiness.

He looked sideways, at the Dark Lord, who gave him a quick nod, at what he lowered himself to one knee before him, to everyone's surprise, muttered something and backed away. They never knelt before the ruler of Gotan, nor had he ever requested that of them, but now they began to wonder.

"And Lady Tarralyanna," said the Dark Lord.

Now, a man like that they could put in the category of being a student to someone like the Dark Lord of the Sith; but a woman? A woman, in their council chambers?

The slender figure stepped forward; the General got pulled at the sleeve by the Chancellor in the last moment, for he was getting unawares to his feet, outraged. The figure pushed the hood down and displayed the most beautiful face of a young woman they have seen, and the most unusual, too. She looked like an alien being, a cross between a sylph and a mermaid. She had long black hair likewise, but with streaks of violet among the blackness, as though someone had a rather foolish play with a pot of paint. Her eyes were the colour of a sapphire, or of a deep, clear mountain lake, something they have never seen before; it is such an unnatural colour, thought the general. She was terribly thin, they thought, and for a moment the thought of the Dark Lord starving her came across their minds; but the way she was standing and walking, they remembered, could not have been the way a starved person would behave. She was also wearing heavy jewellery and atop of it a drop-shaped jewel, which was resting on a chain on her forehead. The Dark Lord nodded at her, too, and she lowered herself swiftly by his side to one knee, with agility not fitting her figure.

"You may sit down, my students," the Dark Lord addressed them quietly, pointing toward two unoccupied chairs to his either side. The two approached the designated chairs, and lowered themselves there with dignity, placing the both of their palms upon the table like one. Was this some sort of custom among the Sith, the general asked himself? He had seen his Lord do so for a few times; was it a habit that escaped him on those occasions, perhaps?

The Dark Lord leaned forward and interlaced his fingers on the table, whereas the twelve people were glancing from one of the three to the other, not knowing where to look first. The woman and the man, his students, where sitting perfectly calmly, bolt upright and not looking at anyone in particular, small smiles of pride and arrogance stretched across their faces. They could speak without words, the general reminded himself, trying to keep calm. Three Sith? He thought they had it bad enough with one!

"My students have been kept in captivity long enough," said the Dark Lord softly, "And they have learned, worked and served me very well in all these years. From this day onwards, they shall be allowed to venture wherever they like, and you are all to treat them as you treat me and obey any orders they may give you. They would never give any without my knowledge, nor would they act against my will. For I would know. Before we summon the full assembly of the Court and deliver these unexpected news, spread the word that they are my assistants. That will suffice, for now."

"I shall have many things to bespeak with you, Korrugen," said the Dark Lord, turning to the General. "Many things indeed. But, for now…"

He leaned aback and smiled a self-satisfied smile, obviously very pleased with the development of the situation.

"Ferrighan," he addressed his Chancellor, who bound up as though prickled with a needle, thinking fast whether there might have been a reason for the ruler of Gotan to be displeased with him, "I want you to find the best horseman in the stables, who would teach my students how to ride. They will come here this afternoon at the sixth Cyrron hour, and you will be in charge of leading them there and introducing them to the horseman."

The Chancellor did not have time to think about the choice he might make, and before he could say anything, the Dark Lord turned to the two.

"I want you to learn to ride as quickly as possible, so that you could ride to wherever I send you. And remember, no Force, my students," he said firmly.

"We understand, Master," said Tammutyen seriously.

"Very well," said the Dark Lord, getting to his feet, "You may go back to the Temple, and use the same tunnel to come here to meet with Ferrighan later."

"Master," said Tarralyanna, kneeling again as she got to her feet, then turning around and pausing by the door to wait for Tammutyen; he shortly knelt by the Dark Lord, who waved off his kneel, not looking at him, and rejoined her there. The both of them disappeared through the doorway.

"In battle, they shall not be able to hide what they are," said the Dark Lord thoughtfully, obviously addressing the General. "But there is time yet. We need to plan carefully, and move slowly."

"In battle?" asked the general blankly.

The Dark Lord looked up almost lazily, giving him a look that made his blood run cold.

"Surely you know, if not from your experience, then from the legends, of the legacy of the Sith," he said in a flat voice, "I have trained them well, in use of their own weapons. They could face hundreds alone."

"And the Lady?" asked the general.

"Lady Tarralyanna had studied the use of Saragon in particular among all else, the traditional Sith weapon, since she was five. She does not need to prove her skill to any of you. My word will suffice. If you doubt her, you only need to ask her about it. She will be happy to demonstrate some of her talents before you," said the Dark Lord, giving a crooked smile.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

At the sixth' Cyrron hour (for a day lasts sixty hours on Horukaan), Ferrighan was waiting nervously in the hall wherein he met the two Sith for the first time and was twiddling his thumbs. He wondered how he was to treat them; was he to kneel? Was he to bow? In the end, he remembered what the ruler of Gotan said – they were to be treated as he is treated. He would bow low to them and address them with respect, even though he was old enough to be their father. The door leading to the underground passage that connected the Dark Lord's mansion and the Court below it opened at last, and the two stepped out, talking in hushed tones, halting at the sight of the nervous Chancellor. He bowed very low to them, as he decided.

"My Lord and Lady," he said quietly, his voice shaking, "Everything has been arranged. If you would come with me."

They were dressed in thick woollen cloaks this time, which were reaching the ground, but which were not as luxurious as the ones they wore that morning. Their hair was braided and most of the jewellery was gone. They seemed to be quite ready for a riding lesseon and were wearing boots, as far as Ferrighan could see. The both of them raised their hoods and followed Ferrighan quietly out of the hall.

Once outside, in the corridors and halls of the Court, they began to act very odd indeed, and Ferrighan had to pause every now and then and look for them, as they were fascinated even with the most simple of things. Paintings attracted their attention, coats of arms, and, to Ferrighan's surprise, flowers, too.

"Tammutyen," whispered Tarralyanna, pointing at the two crossed spears, which were hammered to the wall, serving as a decoration in a long courtyard corridor, running alongside of the flowerbeds bathing in the majestic shimmering blue light of the Cyrron sun. "Look at this!"

The broad-shouldered man approached the spears, and picked one up from the wall. Ferrighan stood uncertainly, not knowing what to think, whether to say something or not. Tammutyen spun it around a little, before he gave it a quick wave, as easily as though it was made of a feather, and then, grinning, passed it to Tarralyanna. There was no one present in the courtyard, Ferrighan ascertained himself, before he looked back at the young woman. The hood could not conceal the broad smile of delight as she caught the spear herself, and spun it so fast it was a blur in her hand, then passed it into her left and back again, before she let out an excited cackle, gave the spear one last shake, and then replaced it on the wall. She slipped her hand under the man's arm, and together they started off once again, whispering, with Ferrighan taking this as a signal they could go.

Confused and surprised, he lead the way out of the courtyard, and toward the entrance hall; on their way they met many people and the majority greeted him, raising their eyebrows at the hooded pair which walked silently behind him, one beside the other, as though not noticing the stares and the whispers directed at them, still glancing excitedly around themselves. When they descended the stairs leading to the Court, they spotted a stray dog and froze on the spot. They exchanged a few urgent whispers, before Ferrighan realized they were not following him anymore. What now, he thought exasperatedly?

"Ferrighan," called the woman in a clear, commanding voice, "What is that?"

She was pointing at the dog. It took Ferrighan a while to realise that they have probably never seen a dog in their lives. Amused and startled, he gave a smile and approached them.

"A dog, probably the guards'," he said, hoping they knew what an animal was. And they were to assist the ruler of Gotan? They were startled at the sight of a dog, for Heavens' sake! "They use dogs to help them guard the Court better, my Lady."

Tarralyanna and Tammutyen exchanged a glance; she raised a gloved hand, but he clapped it firmly.

"No," he said seriously, "Master's orders, remember?"

She nodded quickly, and lowered her hand, but continued to stare avidly at the dog. However, the animal must have sensed something interesting and gotten curious about the smell of the two Sith, who did not smell like the rest of the people swarming about, and approached them on its own. The Chancellor bent over and gave the dog a gentle pat, as to indicate how dogs should be treated. Then he looked expectantly toward the Sith, who now approached the dog.

"Master said we should learn everything we could," said Tammutyen wisely, tapping the dog so hard that the dog gave way under his slap, which was meant to be gentle. Tarralyanna stared at the dog for a few moments, before she stretched out her hand as well, and tapped the dog's head gently. The dog seemed to like her more than Tammutyen, and was sniffing her with interest. Then, without warning, she bent over and caught the dog under its belly and lifted it easily in the air to hold it at the eye-level, examining its belly and teeth. The poor dog beat his legs helplessly in the air, struggling, but the Sith was holding it too firmly. The Chancellor let out a desperate howl and began waving frantically with his hands, not daring to touch her but barely containing himself.

"No, no, put the dog down, everyone will see!" he was hissing.

"I am not harming it, I am merely inspecting it," said Tarralyanna with her eyebrows raised under the hood, giving him a startled look. Tammutyen had just leaned forward to get a better look himself, and was now staring, astonished, at the Chancellor, who was beside himself.

"We do not lift dogs!" he said, "Put him down, it will attract attention!"

"Well, in that case," said the Sith, putting the dog gently down, which scampered away the very moment its paws touched the ground.

The Chancellor stared at the woman with his eyes wide, angry and startled at the same time. She lifted the dog at the level of her head as though it was a feather. Her strength did not match her figure, he thought; but he was forgetting – she was a Sith. God knows what else she can do, he thought.

"Lead the way, then, Chancellor," said Tammutyen, giving Tarralyanna a reassuring tap.

The Chancellor happily obliged, muttering to himself as he walked down the slope toward the stables. He did not imagine this would prove to be a quest, a mission, rather than a simple task of showing them around. At the sight of horses, the Sith seemed to be beside themselves. They immediately liked the large, stout animals, which were animals to their taste. They knew what horses were, as they have seen pictures of them in the books their Master gave them on the history of wars on Horukaan. But they have never seen one before. Ferrighan had just turned around to call for the horseman, who was waiting for them somewhere, before he noticed that the Sith were gone. Hissing and muttering to himself angrily, he entered the closet stable, having a distinct feeling they have wandered off there, and found the woman standing on her tiptoes and exclaiming at the sight of a large war stallion, whereas Tammutyen was examining the horse's teeth by holding the snout in his hands so firmly that the horse could not snatch it away, and was pounding the ground in anger and fear.

"Not those, Lord and Lady!" cried Ferrighan beside himself, looking like a man who was about to start pulling out his hair, "There are other horses waiting for you, royal horses! These are too simple for you."

This worked; Tammutyen let go of the horse's snout immediately, and followed Ferrighan eagerly out of the stable, obviously curious as to see the royal horses, expecting something marvellous and strong. Dabbing his brow with a handkerchief, Ferrighan arrived to meet the horseman, who was standing waiting in the courtyard, and nervously glancing from one Sith to the other. His Lord's assistants.

"My Lord," the horseman addressed them, bowing before them as instructed. "My Lady. Welcome. Everything had been prepared for your arrival. I first want to show you the art of riding on an example."

There was a rider in the grassy space enclosed by a fence, at whom he pointed. The two Sith stared at him eagerly. The horseman explained all about the walk, trot and gallop and showed them how the rider moved, who was previously warned that there would be visitors who would to see him ride. Thus he showed them everything, as instructed by the yelling horseman, standing by the fence.

"The stirrup, the saddle, the reins," said Tarralyanna, sounding as though she was quoting a textbook, nodding. "Yes, I understand. Bring the animals round, then."

The horseman, surprised at this quick progress, turned on the spot and whistled. Two boys came out of the stables, leading a pair of fully saddled and reined horses. The first was a tall, sturdy stallion, and the second one was a shorter, timid-looking horse.

Tammutyen stepped forward immediately and was standing by the horse, now being instructed by the horseman of how to mount; the boys were sent off by Ferrighan, who caught the reins of the second one, fearing that there might be things the boys should not see.

"Why does my horse have a different saddle? It is asymmetrical," asked Tarralyanna, turning in surprise at the horseman. He flushed, Tammutyen now already sitting in the saddle and examining the coat of the horse with interest, tapping it with his gloved hands and plucking the fur out.

"Because… you are a lady, my Lady," answered the puzzled horseman.

"Servant of the land of Gotan," said Tarralyanna in a dangerous, cold voice, that made Ferrighan swallow, wondering whether she would do anything to the horseman, knowing she certainly could, despite of the fact she had no weapon on her, as far as he could see, "I am a knight and a warrior, like my brother. I demand that you saddle a horse as you have done for him."

He is her brother, asked Ferrighan himself, startled? Well, that would explain a lot. He nodded sharply at the horseman, who apologised (he himself did not know why), bowed low and called to the boys again.

"I want one like Lord Tammutyen's," she called after him, "Large and strong."

She approached Tammutyen, who was sitting in the saddle and pulling the reins to himself, grinning at her.

"How is it?" she asked with a smile, her rage seemingly vanishing into thin air, "Is the animal strong?"

"Very," he answered, "But why wait? No one is watching, come!"

And before poor Ferrighan could say or do anything, Tarralyanna grinned broadly at him, jumped and turned in the air, and landed without mistake behind her brother, grabbing him around the waist, disclosing in the process black trousers she wore tucked into knee-high boots. Tammutyen spun the horse around and squeezed its belly hard with his heels. He might have overdone it because the horse naturally believed Tammutyen wanted it to gallop, and that with haste, because Tammutyen's squeeze left the animal deprived of air and in terrible pain. With a loud, frightened whinny, the horse turned round and darted forward, in a long, strong galloping pace, jumping across the fence and dashing quickly across the field, to disappear somewhere in the thicket beyond the stables. Howling with rage and running only a short distance toward the place where they were last seen, Ferrighan stood indecisively, not knowing what to do and how to act. He was certain that he heard loud cackles.

"I guess this means they need to lessons," said the horseman, who ran out from the stable as he heard the whinny. "They ride like the wind."


	5. Chapter 4 - Part One

The story goes on with my Jedi heroes, who decide to try to solve the old Jedi Bakku's mystery. If there are mistakes, just overlook them. Or you can volunteer to help me to correct them. :) I'm trying to use the old-fashioned English.

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. IV – Heroes on Quest

The door of the pub opened, bringing in a whiff of chilly air along with the smell of rain, and the bartender looked up.

"Young Waak-Lin!" he exclaimed, hurrying toward the two Jedi who just came in, grinning, and giving a little bow to them. "Master Waak-Lin, as I have heard! I have not seen you in my pub for ages!"

"Busy," answered the tall, stately man, with sincere, brown eyes, beaming at him. He was wearing a rather frayed brown Jedi cloak, "We will just sit over there. And I will have a pot of your warm lemonade with sugar."

His companion was a timid-looking young woman, who smiled at the bartender and placed her order as she passed by him. Waak spent many pleasant hours in this pub, he told her. She had never been overly fond of pubs and bars, but when one travelled with Waak, it was quite reasonable to expect to visit them often.

"I do not know how you can expect to discuss anything here," she said as she looked around herself, a fancy drink being placed before her, heads turning toward the two Jedi. Waak-Lin leaned aback, looking very pleased with himself and at home in this familiar surrounding.

"Better here," he said brightly, "than at the Jedi Temple. Too many ears listening. Whereas here, none of the ears really hear what we are talking about."

"I see what you mean," she said, still looking very disapproving, but turning to him with a sigh.

"Now that Master Bakku is gone," he said quietly, with her leaning slightly forward, "the Council is sure to do nothing about his warnings, despite of the fact they promised to look into it."

"Yes, well, I cannot blame them, although I know you support him," she said, meeting the glance of his warm, brown eyes. "It all sounds too fantastic. And, let us face it, Bakku's reputation speaks against him."

"But I believe him," he said firmly, "And I said so at the meeting. I was perhaps the only one who openly supported him. Bakku is an old, wise man. Anyone who knows about the War and who got through a lot in his life, like the old Bakku, might seem eccentric and a little inclined to spin fantastic stories. But, Bakku does not lie. And I do not see why the Force would deceive him. It had always been very strong with him."

"But what can we do?" she asked quietly, shaking her head, "If even the Council refuses to believe it? There is not much we can do, really, and anything we might attempt to do might even be considered as treason."

"This is not about the Jedi Order, nor about the Council," said Waak-Lin sternly, wagging his finger at her. "This is about the Sith. If there really is such a thing, as an heir to the last Dark Lord, we must consider it. I am sorry to see the Council is so stubborn and that they adhere so blindly to their beliefs not to even consider the possibility that a Sith might be out there somewhere."

"It is a personal attack on them, I suppose," she said wisely, "Such a thing has not happened for centuries, not since the War. But even the appearance of the so called Dark Lord during the Second Age, and his alleged help in the War, did not get them far, did it? However, it is all guesswork."

"But a guesswork that is to be seriously considered, even if it might remotely be true. Imagine a second war!" he exclaimed.

"But even if he exists, what can he do?" she asked, suddenly sounding outraged. "One Sith? Against the hundred of us?"

"We do not know a lot about the Sith, Larynthe," he said seriously, bowing his head and scratching the place where his braid used to be, smiling to himself inwardly and recalling the moment when it was cut off – when he was made a master. "We do not know what they can do, what they are capable of."

"Yes, but surely," she said with sincere astonishment, stirring her drink with the umbrella, "surely the Order does not comprise of a few younger and inexperienced Jedi! They would know – we would know – wouldn't we?"

"I do not know, Larynthe," he said quietly, "That is precisely the point."

"So what do you suggest?" she asked patiently, albeit a little wearily.

"To investigate," he said firmly, glad that she was eager to help, whatever she thought of all of this. "Not without the knowledge of the Council, of course. I have already said what I thought of the matter; and I will ask them for permission to access all of the libraries, to rummage around for anything that might help me, and for you to assist me in the matter. They cannot decline; for if they do, it would be like ignoring, however feeble, threats. It would make them look ignorant, and they would not want that; besides, I would not be asking them to do anything, just to allow me to investigate on my own, and perhaps travel around, too."

"What would we be looking for, Waak?" she almost whispered, very unhappy about this, because it seemed like a wild goose chase, which would, atop of everything else, leave her with a very bad reputation in the Jedi Order. But, she was determined to help her friend.

"Anything," he said vaguely, but with a fanatical glint in his eyes. "But let us think first, where would a Sith hide?"

She furrowed her brow, thinking back of her lessons at the Temple and trying to remember everything about the Sith – not much – they learned. They merely taught her that they were something like fallen Jedi, who used the Dark side of the Force, and who were governed by their passions, their hatred and their anger. They all heard the story about the poor Jedi who had fallen from grace and could only use the Dark side, because of his love that had turned to hatred when his loved one betrayed him.

"Dark, secluded places," she said quietly, thinking about this and feeling very uneasy at even talking about it. "They have always been described as wearing thick, black robes with hoods on, concealing their faces. I always thought this was because their faces would be something terrible – what do you think?"

"Probably," he said in a mere whisper, "But they wear a lot of robes because they are cold. They are constantly cold, because of the absence of light."

"How do you know that?" she asked, her face now revealing a shadow of fear, because of the way he said it.

"Bakku told me," he said simply, rendering her little mystery quest quite unnecessary. "So, we would be looking for warm, dark places."

"All right," she said, straightening up, "I shall make up a list."

"Excellent," he said, nodding at her with approval, "And I shall make my proposition before the Council."

"Waak," she said suddenly, reaching out with her hand across the table to him, involuntarily. "If this lands us in trouble…"

"You cannot possibly care more about yourself and your own reputation, than the safety of the people of Horukaan," he said, rising his eyebrows at her.

She quickly shook her head, and then bit her lip. She did not know what else to say, because it would make it sound as though she did not care; but the truth was, she was afraid of this, afraid of this might bring her. After all, if the Council did not believe Bakku, and did not believe there was any threat at all, that the Force was as calm and as flowing as ever, who were they to speak against them? The eleven – plus Waak – wisest Jedi on the planet?

If there was one thing that thrilled Larynthe in all of this, then it was the fact that her teacher approved of her investigation with Waak-Lin, and had been most supportive; he said that he did not believe much of it, but that the experience would do her well. Besides, the Council approved of all of Waak-Lin's suggestions, just as he predicted.

They descended the stairs of the Jedi Temple which led to libraries well below ground level, where the oldest scriptures and books were kept in cabinets; it was very cold and the air was stale, she found, wrapping herself better in her cloak, but this was the perfect atmosphere for such old scriptures to remained as untouched by time as possible.

"Let us see," said Waak-Lin, holding up a torch above his head and now plucking it into a holder on a stone table placed there for the purpose. He blew off an enormous cloud of dust from the table and placed a book carefully on it, whereas Larynthe was rummaging around on her own, happy that he did not try to thwart her in her intentions. She was fascinated with all of the old books and scriptures that had been locked up in there for all those years.

"Here we go," said Waak quietly, waving with his hand at the book, brushing off the dust from the ancient pages with the Force. "The end of the First Age, year 2319, the diary of King Ren, ruler of the land of Montague."

Larynthe sat down with a large volume and placed it gently before her, listening at him attentively.

"'Dark times have befallen us,' he writes," read Waak in a slightly trembling voice, "'Scythe is coming; I had reports from the north watchtower of Montague… there is a rumour of a knight cloaked in darkness, wielding shadow and flame, cursing with his eyes and strangling with his thoughts… he stands by the Scythe's side. The end is near… the Judgement Day has come.'"

He looked up at Larynthe, who was trembling; was it because of the chill that spread through the dungeons, or because of his words, he could not say. But her thoughts were no more peaceful than his. He passed with his tongue over his lips, and continued.

"The Second Age, year 2329, upon the beginning of the Great War," Waak continued, pointing his finger at the torch, the flame of which soared up to give him more light, as the pages were so yellow and the ink has faded so that it was very hard to read at all, let along understand the archaic language and decipher the letters used at that time. "By the Legislator of the land of Iuthsowen… 'The Dark knight standing by the Emperor has proclaimed himself to be the knight of the Dark Side of the Force, and he calls himself the Dark Lord of the Sith. As the Jedi are the knights of light, he is the true knight of darkness… He never reveals his face; a few that had seen it have not survived it to tell the tale. He kills with thunder raging from his fingers; he burns with a wave of his hand; he can truly disappear, and be invisible, even to the Jedi.'"

Waak looked up, his brow furrowed, and then tapped the last sentence with his finger.

"You see?" he asked quietly. "This explains a great deal. How can he be invisible? He says even to the Jedi, because we would see a person hiding, wherever that might be, through the Force. The Force does not see him. How?"

"The Sith can make themselves invisible," she whispered, her eyes glittering with excitement at this revelation. "So that is why we cannot sense him!"

"Yes," said Waak, appearing very much pleased with this revelation, because it confirmed his suspicions and supported them, but at the same time, it worried him. "How can one be invisible to the Force?"

"Read on," she said, managing to stop herself from saying 'who cares?' right on time. Waak did not seem to have heard her thought, and lowered his glance toward the ancient book again.

"'He wields two bladed discs, which he hurls at his enemies with the use of the Force,'" read Waak, "'He rarely shows himself throughout the Cyrron hours; night is his day, and the cloak of Luth is his twilight.' Yes, because he was sensitive to light."

"Listen to this," he said after a long pause which followed once he read the full report of the Legislator, during which Larynthe was reading through the large volume resting on the table before her. It dealt with the dual nature of the Force and spoke about the cases of fallen Jedi throughout the history of Horukaan. She looked up, fearing of what she might hear. "From the passing of the Ages, year 2511. The Dark Lord of the Sith had last been seen going north, toward the volcanic lands of Gnath, after the fall of the Empire. He had been pursued, but without much success. The Jedi Order concluded that he must have perished there, and met his end. Holy Force! One hundred and eighty years passed! How old was he?"

"Is not the use of the Dark side supposed to shorten one's life?" asked Larynthe quietly, watching him. He lifted an eyebrow quizzically, waiting for an elaboration. "Well, here I found an account of a case of a fallen Jedi, who had begun using the Dark side of the Force. He died within three years, looking like an old man, and he was only forty-two!"

"So you think…" said Waak slowly, thinking very intently about this, watching her as though he had seen her for the first time in his life, "that this is because of his use of the Dark side?"

"Well, think about it," she said, feeling rather uneasy about laying out her ideas before him, but plunging on nevertheless – her teacher always encouraged her to be straightforward about her ideas. "It demands a great deal of energy, using it, does it not? Anger… hate… you cannot feel like that all the time, can you?"

"We are not the Sith, so we would not know how they function," said Waak softly, seemingly ready to dismiss her claims. Larynthe felt a nasty note of paternalism in his voice, and rounded up on him as though stung by a bee.

"Is it not said that meditation and leading a peaceful life, a life in harmony with the Force, lengthens one's life? Look at Bakku, how old is he?" she said. Waak looked rather taken aback by this example, and was ready for yet another dismissal, but she cut in with an air of annoyance. "So, opposed to it, if they live such strenuous and emotionally stressful lives, would it not be logical to presume that the natural span of their lives would get shortened?"

"Yes, but…" started Waak, but she cut in again, leaning forward and speaking quickly, quite certain of what she was going to say, no longer caring about his opinion and speaking more to herself, than to him:

"And why would they hide their faces? To conceal their age, and what the use of the Dark side had done to their flesh? Would it not be logical to presume that contrary to the beauty and youth that the use of the light side of the Force gives us, that the use of the Dark side reverses the process? Brings decay and destruction?"

Waak stared at her. All of his arguments seemed to have evaporated.

"You know," he said softly, "I am very much impressed by your deduction."

"Thank you," she said, giving him a quick smile, trying to get push aside the excitement that now roiled through her veins. "So he had last been seen in Gnath. It would be logical to presume that it might have many secrets to tell. Of course, no one knows, because no one really goes there."

"Rhaats do," said Waak thoughtfully. "Their land borders with Gnath, and they go there often for supplies, or so I have heard from Bakku." Rhaat was a land populated mostly by Malaskians, but there were many Droddians living there as well, in herds. Droddians were a species of dark-skinned, physically strong beings. Their height ranged from five feet five to five feet seven and they mostly lived by mining, agriculture and hunting. They were not very bright, but they were physically superior to all other races living on Horukaan. The Malaskians and Droddians had long been at war, until the Great War forced them to form an alliance against the Dark forces.

"What sort of supplies?" she asked, surprised and closed her book carefully. "What can one find in Gnath?"

"Lava," said Waak, "They use it for heating and for the manufacture of their pottery. Or at least the lower class does, Bakku tells me."

"And they might be able to lead us there," she said, nodding. She looked excitedly at him. "When are we leaving?"

He looked at her, smiled softly, and then reached across the table for her hand, squeezing it gently.

"Keep it like that," he said quietly, looking at her fondly, "and you will be made a master in no time."

oooooooooooooooo

Larynthe left the Jedi Temple feeling very confused but nevertheless pleased with the development of the situation. Her teacher had assigned Waak-Lin as her temporary teacher during her absence. However, what she did not know was that her teacher also informed Wak-Lin, after he discussed the situation with him, that she was ready to take the trials for a Jedi knight, but that he believed that the journey would do her well, to work on her swordsmanship skills and to see a bit of the world. He did not believe that their errand would be fruitful, or that it would prove to be dangerous. Larynthe was very young when she arrived at the Jedi Temple and she had not had many opportunities to travel around, although her teacher took her on a few missions with her and thus, she was bursting with excitement.

Waak-Lin, her new master, was waiting for her in the vast courtyard before the Temple, holding the reins of her horse and smiling at her. She came out of the Temple carrying her saddle bag and grinned at the sight of him. This change of authority confused her a little and she did not know how to address her childhood friend any more.

"Hello, Waak," she said, then checking. "Ooh, no, sorry, _master_."

He gave a throaty laugh, and nodded at her.

"Just Waak," he said, beaming at her, "Hop on."

She mounted her horse and drew the reins to herself, checking whether her saddlebag was fastened well enough and pulled up her cloak. Waak-Lin clucked to his horse, which headed out of the courtyard of the Temple in a trot, waving at the few masters who stood by the fountain at the entrance, deep in talk. They paused in their conversation at the sight of the two. They looked rather contemptuous, but bade them farewell with enthusiasm nevertheless.

"Good hunting, master Waak-Lin! And Larynthe," called one, "May the Force be with the both of you."

"And you," retorted Waak cheerfully, one hand on his knee, then forcing his horse into a gallop, with Larynthe following him, and feeling the tight knot in her stomach loosen up. She was going away with her best friend, who was now her teacher as well, and she was going to have a grand adventure. Deep within, despite of all she read, she was still very doubtful about the existence of Sith. Who could believe in such a thing on such a grand day, she thought? Cyrron was shining brightly upon them, shedding blue-white light all over the scenery and making her wish she did not put her cloak on, with Luth having only risen above the horizon, covering the violet and blue sky with a shy yellowish glow. There is nothing wrong with the world, and the Force was strong with her. What could possibly happen?

oooooooooooooo

"Why do you suppose someone would want to use the Dark side of the Force?" she asked Waak that evening, as they were eating by the campfire, holding a tin cup in her hands and glancing at the thoughtful Waak.

He looked up at her, chewing. He furrowed his brow, as he had not expected such a question. Being her teacher now, he had to answer it to the best of his ability.

"Some people are naturally evil," he said quietly, turning the cup in his hands, "They cannot help it. They ought to be pitied."

"So do you believe it is a sort of a psychological thing? Troubled childhood and trauma?" she asked.

"I would not put it as simply as that," he said seriously, looking up and staring at the branches dancing in the breeze above her head. "Although there might be a connection. The fallen Jedi have given in to darkness because they were disappointed in life, in love, in all they believed in."

"I can imagine," she said quietly. "The pull toward hatred and despair that arise when one sees his loved one depart with someone else, leaving you. The disappointment…"

"Yes, but we must be strong," he interrupted her. "Hatred and anger are not the answer. Nothing can be accomplished through those."

"It must be horrible, though," she said thoughtfully, gazing at the blackening embers. "The feeling of emptiness, of betrayal…"

"Precisely why the Jedi Order does not allow families," he said, nodding sharply. "Because relationships can be a path toward the Dark side."

"Yes, but I could still fall in love with someone, despite of the fact that I am not married," she said, shaking her head. "There is no rule against that, and, let us be sincere, it is in the nature of my Albinian race, to fall in love easily. It just happens. You got it better, being part Caelian."

He grimaced at her, and gave a short laugh.

"My grandfather was Caelian; I do not think I have a lot of Caelian blood in my veins, if one would exclude the colour of my hair and my height," he said, beaming at her.

Caelians were a race of priests, magi, who would have children only once in their lives, after what they would be sent off to conservatories, if they were pureblood, or given over to the other, non-Caelian parent (if that was the case, what they most certainly tried to avoid). In conservatories the children would be educated in magic and ancient wisdom, growing up without their parents. They spent their lives studying philosophy and science, employing alchemy and all other branches of magic, and living in two communities – solely male, and solely female, not wishing to mingle, believing that sexual impulses were revolting and beyond their nature aspiring to nobler things in life. They were extremely tall and thin, their height ranging from seven to nine feet; their eyes were naturally sky blue, fading to white as they got older and wiser, and their hair colour was predominantly blonde, again fading to white in their older age. There was a saying that one was 'as white as a Caelian', meaning full of wisdom. Their life span was extremely long – between three hundred and four hundred years. Most Caelians lived in the east, in the oceanic lands of Lateen, in monasteries and conservatories, keeping to themselves. They would welcome a newcomer well enough, but urge him to depart as soon as his task was done in their land. Unselfish and quiet, they were found terribly dull by the Albinians (the race which dominated the planet), but nevertheless respected and admired. Waak was part Caelian, as Larynthe remarked, which meant he was exceptionally tall, little over six feet, and rather thin for an Albinian. However, his hair was marvellously blonde, giving off an orange glow at times as well, the work of his Alibinian genes. As he was declared Force-sensitive, Waak had been taken to the Temple at the age of seven by his father, who witnessed Waak juggle eggs his mother cooked him for breakfast solely with the use of the Force, chuckling to himself.

"Sometimes I wish I had more of my grandfather's wisdom, though," he said quietly, prodding the glowing embers in the fire with a stick. "Might help me in this."

"Waak," she said, "What are we going to do, if we encounter a Sith? Theoretically?"

He stared at her and then frowned.

"I would avoid a direct conflict," he said seriously. "From what we know, they live for the battle and we know nothing about the way they fight. We should play to his weaknesses."

"Which are…?" she asked, not seeing any.

"They cannot bear light and cold," he said quietly. "That much we know."

"If we are venturing into the land of Gnath," she said, "We are actually going their way, heading into their territory. Cyrron is obscured by Parokh (second moon) there, and with the feeble lighting of Luth, the land is almost veiled in constant darkness. It is a perfect place for someone like a Sith to live there. Plus it is unbearably warm."

"Yes, I know," he said in a hollow voice. "But you forget one thing. If he is out there, he is alone. And has been alone for a very long time."

"So?" she asked.

"He is vulnerable, for one," he said. "And keeps to his Dark side, which is his strength in all that. We need to show him that the Dark side would abandon him, and that he cannot trust it; we should try to prove to him that the Dark side, on which he relies, will bring him only death and destruction."

"I understand your line of thought, Waak, but I do not know how to actually do it," she said, staring at him with her eyes wide.

He gave a short laugh, tossing the stick into the fire and getting to his feet.

"Neither do I," he said, beaming at her, "But we shall think of something. The Force… will be with us."

"Maybe…" she said, thinking intently, "Maybe we could turn him. First show him that the Dark side is treacherous and wrong, and then turn him, help him to see which is the right path." Waak let out a loud chuckle.

"Good old Larynthe," he said, a little contemptuously, at what she flared up. "Always sees the best in people. There are people who are truly evil, Larynthe, who do not care about love or generosity. They live to destroy things, and this is the only thing that makes them happy."

"I find that hard to believe," she said stiffly. "Every creature needs love; animals need love, plants need love. If this Sith Lord is made out of flesh and blood, then he must need love."

"Some people do not," he pressed on stubbornly. "Do you not see? The Sith are governed by anger and hatred, by all of the negative emotions, which they pour into the Dark side that answers their call."

"I admit that the need would have to be deeply repressed," she went on, as though she did not hear him. "And after a long time of using the Dark side, it would be only understandable. But if we would show him mercy, maybe we could reach out to him…"

"Do you hear what you are saying?" he called to her in slightly louder voice and laughed. "Show mercy to a Sith? He would kill you just to get his day going, and you are thinking about showing him mercy… Larynthe, we are talking about bloodthirsty beasts, who prey on other people's misery because they are miserable themselves! But all the same, a Sith would be a very dangerous enemy, as a user of the Dark side and wielder of its destructive power, and as such, he needs to be destroyed."

"And do you hear what _you_ are saying?" she shot back icily, fixing the glance of her hazel eyes at him, who looked slightly taken aback by her aggressive attitude. "You are equalling a humanoid with an animal, just because you think he is evil and plan to murder him. Perhaps you should ask yourself what makes a difference between a Jedi and a Sith, given all we know about them. Murder is in their nature, perhaps; but is it in ours? Do we kill out of fear, running before something that is horrible and destructive, striking well before it had the chance to strike us? Or do we try to rise above it and show generosity and care, to help a miserable creature and deliver him? Is this not what the Jedi, as the warriors of light, are supposed to do?"

She got to her feet and stormed away, leaving silence unpleasant silence behind her; Waak moodily tossed a rock into the fire, his brow furrowed. Was it possible that she was right? No, he thought to himself firmly; the Sith are a threat, to the Order, and to the whole of Horukaan, and as such they need to be destroyed. As protectors of the world, they had this duty to go to whichever length they had to in order to protect the nations of Horukaan from yet another war.

ooooooooooooooooo

Larynthe could not sleep. She heard Waak lie down opposite her some half an hour later, and she turned away from him, seething. She felt anger roil through her at his contempt for her opinion; she hated the way he always treated her like a child, explaining things to her in detail and dissecting them. It was all right if she had something to learn from it, and this made him a good teacher; but she wanted him, just for once, to admire her for something, to show her his respect and listen to her, and admit that he was wrong, and that she knew something he did not, and perhaps even learn something from her. Waak would never admit he is wrong, she thought. He would rather die. How do they know that the Sith would want to start a war? This Sith is alone, out there somewhere, and he is studying the Force just as they do, horrible and demonic as it may be, but it is an aspect of the Force they all serve; and because of that, he is not much different than Larynthe and Waak-Lin. Just because we do not understand him and fear him for what he might do, we do not have to kill him, she thought angrily. The same thing happens with snakes – they get killed just because they look revolting, and because they are known to strike in self-defence. They are just as weak and as vulnerable as any living being, and they cannot help their appearance and their nature. But this does not give anyone the right to kill them. Larynthe barely managed to force herself to fall asleep, what thankfully happened halfway through her Force inspection of her surroundings, something she always did before she fell asleep.

She had a dream that a tall, dark and hooded person was chasing her around; Waak was laughing at her for being a coward and running away.

"Be generous!" he called to her, still laughing. "That is what you wanted to do, is it not?"

The Sith – Larynthe knew it was a Sith – cornered her and approached her, stretching out a withered hand and hissing at her:

"Kill me. You need to kill me, I am a Sith."

"No!" Larynthe cried, frightened out of her wits. "I will not! It is wrong!"

"Then I will have to kill _you_," wheezed the Sith, reaching out for her.

Larynthe woke up panting, covers sliding down from her, her clothes drenched in cold sweat. The fire had almost extinguished and Waak was snoring gently from the other side, quite unperturbed by her moral issues and nightmares. She breathed with relief, passing with her hand over her forehead and closing her eyes. It was all a dream, just a dream. She turned around, and tried to fall asleep again, trying to clear her mind of the horrible images she had just seen.

Miles and miles away, in the land of Gotan, in the Sith Temple, Lady Tarralyanna of the Sith awoke with a gasp, placing her hand upon her chest, still feeling that awful pressure on it, even as she woke up. Her large bed was quite silent, and the curtains leading out on the balcony stirred in the breeze. Just a dream, she thought to herself, just a nightmare, slumping back upon the bed. But the following moment, she remembered all of it, and jumped out of the bed, leaving it cold and abandoned.


	6. Chapter 5 - Part One

In this chapter we get to hear more about the two young Sith from the Dark Lord... and observe their little games with knives. They never really had the chance to intimidate anyone, but they certainly find it amusing.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. V – The Many Faces of Power

At the third Luth hour, three figures were riding due south when they set their eyes on two lone riders on the broad grassy plateau before them. They drew reins of their horses, and stared uncertainly at the two dots moving about the plateau.

"I am telling you, nothing is going to happen," said the slightly hunched, old man who was obviously leading the other two, narrowing his eyes and trying to make out what the two Sith were doing. "As long as we do not interfere, that is, disturb them, nothing is going to happen."

He was the ruler's Counsellor, known as a very serious, calculated man, therefore perfect for the job, but no man of war. Thin and small, shrivelled up in his old age, for he had just turned hundred and twenty-one, he was an old, wise man, whom everyone asked for advice. His name was Mar-Taat-Moor. He was Force-sensitive, and he was the first to notice strange things about his Lord; his Lord never remarked on his Force sensitivity, nor did he ever show he knew what it meant. Untrained as a Jedi, for he still lacked sensitivity to the Force demanded of a Jedi knight, he could nevertheless feel rushes of something Dark and powerful from the Dark Lord's mansion. But he never mentioned his observations or anything else to anyone, and most certainly never brought it up before his Lord. He kept his thoughts to himself.

"Can they see… feel us?" asked the general doubtfully, his nose twitching.

"Of course," said Mar matter-of-factly, still staring in the direction of the Sith. "But they do not care."

"Right," muttered Ferrighan sceptically, lowering his glance upon his hands and shaking his head. The following moment, he raised his glance once again, and pursed his lips.

"They cannot do anything before they consult the Lord," said Mar a little wearily, feeling as though he was explaining things to little children – it is fascinating what fear can do to a perfectly normal man, he thought. "And he is following them through the Force whenever he can, I bet. He would know."

"That is supposed to make me feel better, is it?" asked Ferrighan with an odd laugh, turning to him. "That would not stop him from punishing us."

"Will the two of you please stop acting like children, follow me, and keep calm? Your fear turns you into a magnet for them," snapped Mar a little angrily, spurring the horse toward the plateau. The two followed, exchanging meaningful glances.

Lady Tarralyanna had just paused, pulling her horse aback. Her features and the lines of her figure were painfully visible the golden light of Luth. Her black and violet hair was bound atop of her head, and thus offering a better view of her face and her sapphire eyes that were glinting with excitement. She was wearing a sort of a black shirt that criss-crossed on her chest, making it even more obvious how thin she was (in comparison to the women of Gotan they were used to). The shirt was tucked in her trousers which she crammed into a pair of high boots. She wore a leather belt around her waist, containing many strange weapons, whereas across her back she carried a sort of a quiver, from which, among other things, a long sword protruded, its hilt sticking out from the simple black leather scabbard. She had taken off her cloak and left it on the edge of the plateau, along with a few more objects the three could not recognise straight away.

She was smiling at the other Sith, who was practising dangling upside down from one side of the horse with his arms crossed on his chest. The three had to marvel at his skill; he learned to ride better than any of them in just a few days. He jerked suddenly and was back in the saddle once again, the reins held in his one hand, his other hand resting on his knee. It seemed, at that moment, that Lady Tarralyanna became aware of their presence, as she turned her head in their direction, only to cast a quick glance at the other Sith. He nodded lightly, still riding forward in a trot, but never pausing. She threw one last inquiring glance in their direction, and then looked away. The two, if not three, breathed with relief.

Such a beautiful, young thing, thought the general, staring at her, and yet so immersed in evil; dressed like a man, and doing a man's job. Lady Tarralyanna drew a small wooden bow from her quiver and the three stared with interest at her while she was fiddling with it. When they blinked, it seemed, she was gone. Exchanging glances and barely containing themselves, the general and the chancellor stared at the empty saddle. Lord Tammutyen was watching carefully the horse which was seemingly trot on its own. Suddenly from under the horse's belly a whole sally of arrows started fizzing, or what appeared to be arrows, and the following moment, Lady Tarralyanna appeared in the saddle only for a second, to flip easily over the side and remain dangling on one stirrup only, holding the bow in her hands. She drew arrows from within her shirt, the three thought, but was in reality spitting them as she had them in her mouth, and was placing them into the bow so fast it more looked as though she was playing a harp, aiming from that impossible position, and shooting at a tree some six hundred feet away.

Lord Tammutyen headed for the lone tree in a trot, whereas she raised herself back into the saddle, breathing erratically and brushing off the hair from her face and spitting something out on the ground. She watched her brother pompously with her chin high in the air as he was examining the bark of the tree. The three have never seen anything like it. Lord Tammutyen gave a wide wave at her and then lifted one finger in the air. They wondered what that meant. Tarralyanna bowed her head a little, as though disappointed, and then forced her horse into a trot, heading to intercept him For a few moments they spoke, and then she stood aside, drawing up her sleeves to expose leather bands around her wrists and massaged them, as though they were sore. Mar wondered whether she was Albinian, because she certainly did not look that way.

Lady Tarralyanna pointed her finger at the ground, and a flat piece of rock went whizzing into her hand. She turned it over for a few times, before she placed it before herself on the saddle. Lord Tammutyen had in the meantime dismounted and was immersed in the task of tightening the straps on his horse, which stood quite still and obedient. The rock rose to hover in the mid-air before her and she watched it soar upwards, turning in the air in the same rhythm. Her expression was that of calmness and she seemed to be playing with the rock. The general, however, had seen enough, and he jerked backwards, showing every intention of going back. Mar grabbed him and whispered into his ear:

"Not now, it would disturb her."

The general halted where he was, watching with his eyes wide. Levitation and manipulation of objects is only the beginning, he heard Mar's words in his head. She could ride like the devil, she could shoot from upside down and without mistake, and she could hurl rocks around. Can there be more?

Lady Tarralyanna of the Sith reached upwards with her gloved hand and made a clenching movement with her fist, at what the rock exploded into millions of pieces, a cloud of dust spreading all around her. There was a look of satisfaction on that pretty, young face as she watched the dust settle down. Tammutyen now turned his horse around, once again in the saddle, and pulled out a handful of small, shiny objects from his pocket. He was standing with them on ready in his hand and looked expectantly at his companion. She galloped toward the same tree at which she shot a few moments ago.

Lord Tammutyen disappeared from the saddle; but now the three knew where he was, although they could not see him at all. One might believe it, seeing someone like Tarralyanna do it, who was easily hidden completely by the horse's massive body; but for someone like Tammutyen, who was much bigger in bulk, it seemed rather impossible. Again, a quick, shiny sally whizzed from under the horse's belly, after what he flipped over the side, and now revealed how he was doing it. His one leg, which was in the stirrup was bent, whereas his other leg was outstretched, hovering in the air and running along the length of the horse' body. He was flicking the shiny objects that were obviously some sort of short daggers without a hilt with his right hand, holding onto the strap that ran across the horse's chest with his left hand. With a mighty jerk he heaved himself once again to sit in the saddle, spun playfully the last dagger that remained in his hand and threw it. Without warning – because it did not seem to be the dagger's natural itinerary – it thrust into the tree beneath which the three were standing.

The general was about to turn back, when he remembered who he was, a general of an army. And there, he got scared of something and was to run away. A man of war does not run away, no matter what, he reminded himself. Thus he stood where he was, his heart throbbing in his throat, watching as Lord Tammutyen headed toward them in a light trot.

"My Lord," he spoke first. "We are very sorry if we disturbed you."

Lord Tammutyen glanced over him with an emotionless, mask-alike expression, making the general swallow something large and bitter. Then his thin lips stretched into a smile.

"Curiosity is not a crime," he said quietly. Lady Tarralyanna appeared behind him slightly breathless, her sapphire eyes quickly glancing over the group of people sitting in their saddles.

"Stay," said Lord Tammutyen suddenly, turning his horse and giving them a nasty grin. He stretched out a hand, at what a small heap of dried branches exploded with a loud bang and caught on fire. Ferrighan let out a stifled scream, whereas Mar-Taat-Moor stared back at the Sith knight without blinking. Tammutyen stared at him for a few moments longer than necessary, at what the old counsellor bowed his head and nodded with dignity, his hand over his chest. It was both a gesture of servility, as it was a gesture employed by the Jedi when saluting a member of the Council. He believed that the Sith knight knew that, and he was right. His Master taught him that, along with everything else he knew about the Jedi.

"Now you have a fire to cook your lunch on," added Tammutyen over his shoulder, forcing his horse into a gallop. He left the three staring after him.

"They have been made Sith knights," he spoke to the three once they managed to get back to the Court. "But not before they turned twenty-six. A Jedi custom is twenty, or earlier… I wonder why… Why had he kept them locked up for so long, ignorant of the world beyond their home?"

"Do we care?" asked Ferrighan, calming his nerves with a large gobletful of aqua vitae, his hands still trembling. "He obviously wanted to train them as perfect killing machines before he showed them to anyone. Perhaps he thought they might wreak havoc."

"Yes, I daresay you are right," said Mar thoughtfully, to his surprise. "They do not know the world; they know only what they have learned, how to fight and how to manipulate the Dark side; he waited this long to introduce them to the world, because of what they might do, and because he wanted them trained to perfection. At what, I do not doubt, he succeeded."

"Too right," said the general, setting aside the goblet. "The twigs… the wood… it just caught on fire!"

"Ah, such displays should not amaze you," said Mar, waving off with his hand. "However, I felt the Dark side as he did it – it was like a cloud around him. It had been years since I felt it, and I was rather shaken with it, I must confess."

"So who is more powerful, then?" asked Ferrighan, "Him or her?"

"You are again prejudiced," said Mar, wagging his finger at him, "I have felt the Force in both of them. However, they have been trained so well in cloaking it. If there is one thing I cannot understand, then that is it. How is it done? It would be like peeling off one's face, like stepping out of one's body. I cannot understand it."

"You digress," said the general sternly, coughing, not caring the least how the Sith were cloaking their power and not seeing the relevance of knowing the answer to this question. "Who is more powerful?"

Mar gave him a pitiful glance and shook his head.

"The Dark side is extremely strong with her," he spoke at last, "It practically rushes into her hand. And she controls it so well; her concentration of the Force is swift and precise. But… how she does it is a mystery to me, because from the inside, she is empty and as cold as ice. She does not have stores of anger in the contemporary meaning of the word, which she could use for to summon the Dark side – whereas Lord Tammutyen is walking anger. Behind that calm mask of his, he is a raging beast. He has it in infinite amounts, and in his case, the Dark side might need summoning and concentrating, but when it answers his call, it is like a storm, destroying everything in its path."

"So, the answer would be her," said the general, astounded. "By Cyrron, I never thought it might be so. She looks so…"

"Timid?" asked Mar quietly, his finger on his lips. "Calm? And yet, so cold."

He looked up, sighing.

"But I believe I shall go find our Lord and ask him about it," he said unexpectedly, with the general looking so shocked he forgot to close his mouth. "Yes, that would be for the best."

"Are you… mad?" the general gasped.

"I should not think so," answered Mar coolly. "The Lord encouraged me to find out who he truly was; he shared his secret with me and you; and his own students urged us to stay and watch them practise. Why should I not ask questions? He will not answer those he does not want to answer, and the information which he does choose to give me will undoubtedly help me to be a better counsellor. How can I counsel him without having a full view of the matter?"

ooooooooooooo

Not discouraged by the pleas of both to stay out of it, Mar-Taat-Moor knocked on the door of his Lord's study in the Court.

The Dark Lord was seated behind a large table, a roll of parchment in his hand; a few candles were burning here and there and thick black curtains were drawn over the windows. Over the table hung a gleaming shield with the Gotan crest and a little to the left, hung two swords, crossed and pointing upwards. There was a goblet set on the table before him, which he picked up gently as Mar came in. His lips stretched into a small smile.

"Ah, Mar-Taat-Moor," he intoned softly, waving for him to come in. "Come in, come in. My students… told me about your little curiosity trip."

Mar seated himself where he was shown and was glancing over the content of the Dark Lord's table, waiting for him to continue. However, it rather seemed that the Dark Lord was actually waiting for him to pose a question, as he said nothing, hitching his roll idly so that it would not drag along the floor.

"My Lord," spoke Mar at last. "You have always… encouraged me to learn more about your ways. Tried to tell me, many years ago… But you have never shown us the Dark side after the day you told all of us."

"Do you wish I had?" asked the Dark Lord, lifting his eyebrows.

"At times, yes," said Mar quietly. "Feeling it… was a unique experience."

The Dark Lord leaned aback, a mysterious smile hovering on his lips. Then he smirked and looked aside.

"I understand," he said, "And now that you have felt it again on my students, you desire to feel it again."

"It evoked my thirst for knowledge, my Lord," said Mar earnestly, looking up at the Dark Lord, whose eyes were glittering in the light of the candle set on his table. "So many questions to ask… I came here primarily because I had to ask, because I had to try to ask you at least some of them… if you would allow that. It would help me greatly to know how some things stand, in order to counsel you better."

Silence followed these words, and for a moment, the Dark Lord said nothing. He was merely staring at his servant and obviously listening at his thoughts. Mar was very, very careful. However, this amused the Dark Lord, and he smiled again, taking a sip from his goblet.

"You know I am very proud of my heritage, and of my mission," he said quietly. "And of all the Sith Order stands for. You have been my counsellor many long years, and I have always considered you a wise person and an impartial judge. Thus I shall allow it."

"Thank you, my Lord," said Mar, bowing. "Your approval of my services and efforts means more than I can say." He paused, waiting for the flattery to sink in, and then continued. "I, and the eleven other people you have shared your secret with, wish to know more about your students. Have they always lived in your mansion?"

"Ah," said the Dark Lord. "A natural question. There is no reason I should conceal the particularities before you." He settled himself better on his chair and seemed to think where he should begin.

"Well, after I have been given the mission of bringing the long-lost Sith Order back to life, I have searched the land far and wide for students, for someone worthy of receiving my teachings and someone powerful enough to be a Dark side student. Year after year, I failed. However, my efforts proved to be fruitful at long last. I have found little Tammutyen. He was three years old when I took him. I brought him to the Temple, and had a few Malaskians care of him."

"And what happened to his family, my Lord?" asked Mar.

"That is of no importance," said the Dark Lord vaguely, waving off with his hand; it made Mar think that he probably killed all of them.

"Just as I was planning how to start teaching him, I have run across Tarralyanna. She was a surprise I did not expect. At the age of three, she was a talent I could not leave behind. I took her as well, and brought her to the Temple. I had two students, of equal age, and I was very pleased about it. However, it was not before the age of five that they actually began exercising their dormant skills. During that time they lived at the Temple, playing together and living with the Dark side. I did not go about them as a caretaker, trying to raise them or anything of the sort. That was the task of the Malaskians. Likewise, I did not want to win their trust and respect in a contemporary way – I had other means to accomplish this on my mind, means that would push them in the right direction. Thus, one day, I have uncloaked myself; I have shown them the power of the Dark side. The two children were scared out of their wits, as you must imagine."

The Dark Lord laughed a little as he reminisced, whereas Mar listened attentively. God knows when he might next be given the chance to ask questions.

"But at the same time, they felt a powerful pull toward it. They begged me to teach them how to do it, whatever it was that they felt, and I promised I would, if they would obey me without question and follow my every order. You can imagine that the following ten years were very turbulent; we had all those intrusions in the country and at the same time I knew that they were in a very delicate stage of development, that I had to control them all of the time, never to slacken my grip on them. They have been educated in all matters of importance – history, science, literature, art of war, war tactics and all that goes along with it. This, of course, is only a small portion of their daily work, for they did Force manipulations most of the day, under my supervision, or later, alone. I have taught them very early that free time is a luxury for my student."

"Lady Tarralyanna is most unusual," said Mar carefully. "I have never seen eyes like hers."

"She is unique," said the Dark Lord quietly; was there a tinge of fondness in his voice?

"But she is Albinian, my Lord?" asked Mar.

"Not really," said the Dark Lord, his eyes twinkling at this, giving a small smile. "But I will not tell you more."

"And Lord Tammutyen, he is Albinian, surely," said Mar, now thrown off balance with this argument –_ what_ was she?

"Not really, either," said the Dark Lord again, giving a sudden laugh. "You will find that he looks like one, sure enough, if one would exclude the colour of his hair. Then again one might suppose that he has a bit of Droddian blood, but, as it is, he does not. His anatomy… is simply different."

"I see," said Mar slowly, burning with the desire to ask what they were but knowing at the same time that this would mean jeopardizing the Dark Lord's trust and his good will to tell him what he wanted to know. For if he said he would not answer his question, then that was that.

"Well, it is known to me that the Jedi believe that students are ready to become independent between the ages of eighteen and twenty," he went on. The Dark Lord's lip quivered. "Not that I am trying to imply anything, I am merely employing the only example that is close enough for comparison. You surely know that it was a shock to find out that you have been teaching them for all these years… but why now, my Lord? Why only now have you allowed them to face the world?"

He knew that his Lord deeply despised the Jedi, and he was not exactly hiding it.

"Because," said the Dark Lord firmly, setting his goblet aside, "they are ready only now. I wanted them to be complete masters of themselves, of their own flesh and blood, of their minds and their capabilities, to be fully forged into Sith knights, before I let them out into the world. It is easy, you must have noticed, for them to acquire new skills and to learn new things, as they have had a firm foundation for assimilating new knowledge."

Yes, it all made perfect sense, thought Mar. The Dark side was so much harder to control and wield, and it would be natural to presume that it would take them much longer to rise up to the level of mastery.

"My Lord, there is also a question, something that has been puzzling me for too many years," said Mar at last, daring to say the words aloud. "You know I am Force-sensitive and I use every shred of my natural capabilities in my work."

"You have sensed something from the Temple," said the Dark Lord quietly, with a hint of amusement. "Yes, understandable. This is why I have forbidden access to it; there was too much going on in there for me to risk anyone seeing anything, with two wild children being educated in the nature of the Dark side."

"What puzzles me," Mar went on nervously, twiddling with his thumbs, "is how you have been hiding your true self all these years?" For Mar used to think that the ruler of Gotan, despite of the distant echoes of the Dark side coming from his mansion (Temple, Mar asked himself?), although he did not know what exactly it was, was Force-sensitive, too.

The Dark Lord's expression was suddenly very grave, and he regarded Mar with unhidden seriousness. It seemed that the issue was either too complicated to explain, but that he was willing to explain after all, or that it troubled him.

"It is what the Jedi could never do," he said in a quiet, dignified voice. "When we do not use the Force in the active way, meaning summoning it for a specific purpose, we can still feel it, reach out through it, but not use it."

He leaned aback, glancing seriously over Mar and bringing the tips of his fingers together.

"You cannot feel anything now, can you?" he asked quietly, regarding him with his twinkling eyes.

Mar quickly closed his eyes, trying to sense something coming from the Dark Lord, but all he could sense was an authoritative figure before him, someone powerful, yes, but other than that, there was nothing. The Dark Lord was like a fortress, locked up without a window or a door, except those from the inside. Upon the first glance, even for a Force-sensitive person, he was just an ordinary person. As ordinary, as a ruler of the mountain land of Gotan could be, that is.

"No, my Lord," answered Mar sadly.

"Of course you cannot," said the Dark Lord with a crooked smile. "I have perfected the technique over the years. It would be a great relief to be able to surround oneself with the Dark side all the time, as the Sith of the past used to do. However, this is useless, you see. We do not need it all the time. And when we do, when we come out of our cloak of hiding, which is why I call that gesture uncloaking, the answer of the Force is so much more powerful, so much quicker. It became a sort of a second nature. To my students, in the beginning it was a torture they could not understand, once they learned how to sense the Dark side and use it. It was like keeping them in a cage, they told me; a horrible, choking feeling. But they learned."

"But why, my Lord?" asked Mar, startled with this discovery, "Because of the Jedi?"

The Dark Lord's nostrils flared and a distant echo of anger reached Mar; but there was not one hint of the Dark side answering. He was impressed despite of himself as he realized what this cloaking, as he called it, entailed and how much sacrifice it demanded. Restrained and kept in check all of the time, they did not have any freedom at all.

"Because of the Jedi Order, yes, among other things," said the Dark Lord slowly, "But also because of ourselves. Power does not come without sacrifice, and one has to be ready for it. My students protested, but they broke in the end. I do not accept petty excuses of incompetence or incapability. They were chosen to be trained as my students, they were given that honour; and if they are not ready to sacrifice their lives and their souls to me, to live my teachings, then they are not worthy of them. They learned… the hard way."

His jaw hardened as he picked up his goblet, and for the first time, Mar felt sorry for the two Sith. He began to understand the complexity of their training and their fear before their master. He undoubtedly punished them in any way conceivable (and he proved to be very imaginative when it came to torture and punishments in the land of Gotan) before they did what he asked of them.

"In no time, my counsellor," said the Dark Lord importantly, "you will see them in battle. I have great things in stall for them, and at last, all of my plans, which I could not put into motion with the two of them still being in training, will begin to unfold."

"And you, my Lord?" asked Mar, staring at his hands, which were twiddling with the base of the goblet. "Never before have we even imagined you knew anything about battle and war, except for tactics, let along seen you at it. You taught them of all of that, and we have witnessed a part of it; thus you must have great knowledge and skill in it."

"Indeed I do," answered the Dark Lord with a laugh. "You will, one day, my servant, you will. There was no need for it just yet. But when I _do_ come out in the open, there will be no more hiding for the Order."

"But," he went on, glancing as though by the way over Mar, "if you desire to feel the Force, you only ever had to ask me."

Mar stared at him uncertainly; yes, he desired it more than anything, he wanted to bring back all of those sleeping memories to life of feeling it for the first time. But he never, ever thought that he could just ask his Lord to demonstrate it once again.

"Afraid of it, and yet yearning for it, if not out of curiosity, then because you are drawn to the feeling of unlimited power," said the Dark Lord quietly.

"I admit I am," muttered Mar.

The Dark Lord gave him a crooked smile and slowly lifted one hand. Mar stared at him with his eyes wide. Suddenly the room exploded before his very eyes, it filled with ineffable power, which left his ears buzzing and his head swimming. It choked him, and yet, it was so consuming, so intoxicating, so fantastic – and he felt like he could do anything. The Dark Lord merely pointed his finger at the fire crackling peacefully in the grate behind Mar's back, which now soared up almost to the ceiling, filling the room with unbearable heat, along with a whooshing sound of flames leaping upon the Dark Lord's order. There was no anger, no hatred, no such emotions, as Mar imagined there would be, for the first time he sensed it he was too shocked to remember right about every detail, but could recall the profound feeling of power that consumed him. There was only power, great, roaring, thundering power, which filled him to the last bone.

The Dark Lord lowered his finger, not moving from his chair, his expression still the same, and the feeling disappeared as fast as it came, as though by magic. The room went quiet, and the fire returned to its normal size. And Mar, unable to help himself, overwhelmed with what he experienced, slid off the chair to his knees, bowing his head low and trembling with the whole of his body. The Dark Lord's lips were stretched into a smile as he watched him kneel, his mind once again a calm ocean of controlled thoughts. "It is easy to worship power," Tammutyen once remarked to his Master, "but who was willing to pay the price to gain it?" Not many, answered his Master; in fact, only a few.


	7. Chapter 6 - Part One

The story goes on with my two Jedi heroes, who conclude that they might find more on their quest than what they bargained for.

As I have once written this story, I did not bother to explain anything along the way, because I never thought I might give it to someone else to read. However, it has occurred to me that I've been heaping up stuff I invented without proper explanations. Thus, for those of you who are reading, here's my explanation for the races living on Horukaan. The Albinians: medium-height, brown-haired as a rule, pale skin. The predominant race on the planet. The Droddians: physically superior, mostly miners and hunters, a little shorter. They are natural warriors and hunters. The Malaskians: dwarf-like creatures, curly hair, servile and friendly nature. In some countries, like the province of Gotan, slavery is legal and Malaskians are very popular as slaves because of their hard-working nature and their domestic skills. The Caelians: exceptionally tall, blue eyes and blonde hair, can live up to 400 years and they keep to themselves, living in the oceanic land of Lateen and devoting their lives to science and magic.

Cassie

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CAP. VI – The Jedi Way

Larynthe thought it was very wise of Waak not to mention the dispute they had, for she was still angry with him, and still stood by what she said. Just because he is a master, and she is still an apprentice, she thought, does not mean he has to be right about everything. The Force was very strong with Waak, and he was an excellent swordsman; however, she thought, his principles and ideals needed brushing up. She followed his instructions and engaged in duels with him for the sake of exercise with a serious expression, trying not to reveal what she thought of him. But the truth was that what he said that evening left her so very disappointed with him. She marvelled at him, and she admired him in her childhood; but now, her best friend and her idol fell down a few notches. Only the following day, however, when she reviewed everything with a cool head, after a good night sleep, she could understand how much strength it took to cling on to her opinion and her position in the matter, given the fact that she was so influenced by him in her early childhood and always looked up to him. At first it made her feel proud, but there were times she doubted herself. However, as Bakku used to say, the sword has been unsheathed and there was no use trying to deny it. Something made her say all of those things to him, and she believed all of it was not twaddle, said on the spur of the moment.

Travelling due north, they have passed through many fantastic regions, and she too caught up with staring at the sceneries skimming past her to think about their dispute. They have arrived in the desert land of M'Oran, and there, on the edge of one of the vast deserts that stretched across it, barely managed to find a place where to rest and replenish their rations, as most of the villagers were gone hunting.

"Jedi, eh?" said a plump Malaskian woman in bad Albinian, serving them coffee. "We never seen one before."

"I imagine," said Waak, smiling at her. Servile and eager to help, the Malaskian woman was grinning at him through her curly hair, apparently beside herself to have someone like two Jedi desire to sleep in her inn, or however that place could be called. "We are travelling to Gnath."

The Malaskian woman gave a wince and almost dropped her tray; her eyes wide and fearful, she stared at Waak, her hands beginning to shake. She turned back toward the house, but Waak caught her for her elbow.

"No, no, do not be afraid," he went on, smiling pleasantly. "It would help us a lot if you could tell us what you know about it."

"Me?" gasped the Malaskian, "Me knows nothing, nothing!"

"But do you know someone who might?" asked Waak on, with Larynthe watching everything with her hands crossed on her chest, openly disapproving of his attempts to question the Malaskian woman. She was frightened, and there was no good tugging her at her sleeves, she thought.

"Yes, perhaps, a traveller!" she said, he breast heaving up and down quickly. Larynthe was not certain whether her prompt answer was just a way to wriggle out of the situation, and immediately reached out with the Force toward her. Larynthe was pretty sure that Waak looked in her direction at that, but she did not care what he thought of her conduct. What she found, however, left her satisfied. The Malaskian seemed to be telling the truth.

"Where might we find him?" asked Waak warmly, releasing the woman.

"Out in the desert, he went!" cried the woman, writhing her hands. "Me not knows when he back!"

"All right, what is his name? Is he Malaskian?" asked Waak a little impatiently.

"Malaskian, yes," answered the woman, nodding vigorously, "Pelat is his name, Pelat of the Matinu tribe, deep northwest, they live."

"Right," said Waak, smiling at her warmly. "Thank you so much for this. But can you tell us why did the name of the land we were travelling to frighten you?"

"Why?" gasped the woman, who was already on her way of recovering from shock only to be shocked all over again by this new question. "Why, oh why, Jedi! Bad things there, very bad. Evil!"

"That is what you heard, is it?" asked Waak cautiously.

"None comes back from there," she said in a mere whisper, leaning toward him surreptitiously, before glancing around herself as though worried someone might overhear her. "Flashes of lightning, they say. Monsters, big, big!"

She was gesturing with her small fat arms, and Larynthe openly frowned. What he was hoping to extract from this frightened woman who had no idea about anything, she would never know.

"But the Rhaats venture there," Waak persisted, "There are a lot of your kind living on the border."

"Rhaats mad," said the woman, tapping herself with her forefinger on her head framed with thick, curly hair. "Bewitched. Bedazzled. Drink the lava even, that makes them mad."

"Drinking lava?" asked Waak thoughtfully. "That is interesting."

"Thank you," said Larynthe suddenly and very loudly, making the woman turn to her, wincing at the sound of her voice. "I love your buns. Could you get me a few more?"

The Malaskian woman seemed so very relieved and so grateful to her for interrupting this interrogation that she practically ran into the house, not looking back. Waak stared at Larynthe with unhidden disapproval.

"Why did you do that?" he asked in an undertone.

"Oh, come off it, Waak," she snapped at him, leaning forward but not looking at him. "She does not know anything. A load of twaddle, all of it. We should find this traveller character, and not interrogate folk who had never ventured beyond their house and who know only what they hear, some tittle-tattle that is not useful to anyone."

"That is what you think, is it?" he said quietly."I say we should explore every possibility. What she last said was very interesting."

Larynthe laughed contemptuously and picked up her cup.

"Really," she muttered, more to herself, taking a sip, believing that her attitude showed clearly what she thought of the matter and that it did not need any further elaboration.

"Look, just because you think that someone is talking a load of rubbish, does not mean it is not worth hearing it," he said firmly, his glance fixed upon her.

"You were frightening her to death, she would say anything to get away," said Larynthe sharply.

"Have you felt her lie?" he asked, still not tearing his glance off her.

"No," she answered, annoyed. "But that does not mean she was not talking rubbish."

"Well, too bad for you," said Waak with a hint of anger in his own voice, triumphantly. "I am your teacher now and I say you should be quiet when we are investigating and not meddle in, unless you have something really important to say."

She stared at him with deep contempt in her brown eyes, and then leaned aback, pursing her lips.

"I know you are angry with me, Larynthe," he said in a softer voice, trying to reach out for her hand across the table, which she withdrew in the last moment, realizing his intention. "But really, there was no harm in asking the Malaskian what she knew. And, consequently, anger…"

"…is the path to the Dark side, yes, I know!" she suddenly hissed at him, and then got up so fast the cups and plates occupying the table rattled. She flared up her nostrils at him and pulled out her brown Jedi cloak on which she had been sitting until then. "But so is harassing of innocent, naive people."

With that she turned on her heel and disappeared in the house. Waak leaned aback, crossing his hands on his chest. Teaching Larynthe was proving to be harder than he thought. What had gotten into her?

Larynthe could not stop thinking about what he said, despite of herself. Anger is the path to the Dark side, rang in her mind as they rode on the following day. She had been so very angry all of this time, on and off, and she could not help herself. It is all his fault, she thought. The Sith yearn for power and control; and Larynthe has never yearned for power or wanted to control anyone. She only wanted to be powerful enough so that she could help people. Power meant absolutely nothing to her, and as amazing as the mastery of certain skills made her feel, they were amazing only insomuch that this meant she could manage more, and was advancing in the right direction, fulfilling the trust of the Jedi masters given to her upon the day of her acceptance, and thus justifying her place in the Order. But… why was she so angry all of sudden? Whence all of these thoughts of mutiny against all she had ever been taught? Perhaps Larynthe never had the chance to question all she had been taught until now. But now that she was a part of a delegation that could as easily be the one to engage in a battle against Darkness, she suddenly became aware of her true principles. And the more she thought about them, the more they made sense. She did not fear the unknown, coming in the shape of a Sith, and thus felt it had to be destroyed at once – she did not call that strength, or courage. By courage she regarded the capability to still remain true to herself and yet understand the other side, without losing herself in it. Could it be done? She believed it could. A person who is loyal to her principles could do it; she should do it, she thought; and this was the very ideal of a Jedi knight she wanted to be.

As the dry land of M'Oran skimmed before her eyes, her eyes watering in an effort to see clearly, her hood over her head, Larynthe felt odd strength rise within her; the Force was stronger with her than ever, even there, among those doleful dines and dry patches of land which they left far behind as they advanced further into the vast desert of Gorg, which was a Malaskian name for 'the land of perish'. She did not look at Waak, nor did she try to start a conversation, although she felt him reach out for her thoughts. She would not hide them; what is more, she hoped he would hear them, rather than having to say them aloud. It made so many things easier.

"Malaskians," she said all of a sudden, straightening up in the saddle, more to herself, "Up ahead."

"I cannot sense anything," said Waak, spurring his horse so that they rode side by side. "It is very hot; perhaps…"

"I did not ask you what you thought of the validity of my sensations," she snapped at him. Her own dare and anger surprised even her. Waak was so taken aback by her impertinence that he did not have time to say anything before she spurred her horse harder and took the lead. Waak followed, his nostrils flaring, trying to concentrate and keep calm. His hand found the hilt of his sword under the robes as they galloped, and his usually noble features hardened. Malaskians were known as servile and friendly to every race they encountered; but there were travellers and roamers who often proved to be the exact opposite, and who would not shrink before anything to get their hands on some food and water. But it was not like there actually WERE any Malaskians up ahead.

Waak's firm disbelief in her claim vanished as soon as he felt presences ahead himself; this surprised him, as it made him ask himself why had he not felt them before. Was it because he was so caught up with listening at Larynthe's thoughts, or because he was losing his focus? He would like to believe the first, and he did, refusing to even to consider the second option.

The Malaskians halted upon the sight of the two Jedi and drew their donkeys to a halt; the people of M'Oran were famous for breeding such stout animals, which were able to go on without water for days, and were more endurable than any Droddian alive. They exchanged a few quick words, after what they forced the animals into a vigorous trot toward them, down the slope of a dune, which only told Larynthe that they have only just come out of an oasis.

"Greetings, Jedi," said the foremost one, raising a hand to show his friendly intentions. "What brings you to our desert land?"

"We are on an important mission," said Waak loudly behind Larynthe, before she could say anything. "And we are in search of a certain person. Perhaps you might help us."

"We would gladly help the Jedi," said the Malaskian, whose curly hair was obscuring his eyes. "For a fair exchange, of course."

Aha, thought Waak to himself. Very well, we have something to trade; he came prepared for this, and brought a few valuables with him.

"A handful of Kluth, perhaps, would be more than a fair exchange," said Waak, straightening up in the saddle. The Malaskian's eyes gave a glint.

Kluth was dirt from the islands of Lateen, legendary for its fertility, so that whatever was planted in it would grow to its full size in only a few days. Enriched by the magic of the Caelians, Kluth was greatly appreciated throughout the whole of Horukaan and was extremely hard to acquire, if not given directly by a Caelian. It could not be bought; because the Caelians did not trade in such a fashion – they either made something a gift, or kept it for themselves.

"Only the Jedi would have such a thing," said the Malaskian in a sudden tone of humility, at which Waak laughed inwardly, at how quickly his manners changed. "And only the Jedi would be as generous. We accept."

"Perhaps you could lead us that oasis whence you just came," said Larynthe, without looking at Waak. "Where we could water our horses and discuss everything."

"Of course," said the Malaskian, eyeing her and then bowing to her. "Let us go."

Larynthe did not wait for Waak to start attacking her for her initiative and followed the Malaskian without a word to him. She did not even indulge her curiosity as to reach out for his thoughts; she was certain he was angry and that she would hear about it very soon. But, once again, she did not care.

The oasis the Malaskians led them to was not large, but there was a sufficient amount of water for their horses, which immediately doubled their pace as they smelled it and were eagerly slurping it as soon as they reached it. Larynthe jumped down from her horse, relieving it of the saddle and all of the burden the horse had been carrying, whereas Waak did it slowly, keeping an eye on her, as though fearing what she might say or do.

Larynthe was of medium height, her hair traditionally brown, as that of every Albinian, with round, sincere brown eyes; she was rather plump, but she did not allow this to be an obstacle. She was trying to keep herself in check not to cross this thin boundary she set for herself. She leaned forward over the well and refilled her butts with water and then sat down on the ground, glancing over the Malaskians who patiently waited for them to be done with refreshing their water supplies.

"We are looking for a certain Pelat of the Matinu north-western tribe," said Waak, wondering why the Malaskian who first spoke to them was staring expectantly at Larynthe, rather at him – this undermined his authority, and he felt rather insulted.

"You are in luck, Jedi," said one from the back. "You have found him."

The Malaskian speaking got to his feet. His eyes reminded Larynthe of birds of prey and the second thing that caught her attention was the obvious fact he was armed up to his teeth. His small figure was carrying an immense load of many swords and daggers hanging from his belt, whereas his boots revealed how much they were actually used – his toes were peeking out at the front. He was dressed like any Malaskian, in a long tunic and knee-length trousers that danced about his boots. What was not traditional, however, was a leather coat he wore despite of the heat, patched here and there, obviously his pride and joy, speaking of all of the travels he had done in his turbulent life. He had an intelligent, curious look of a person who knew how to get what he wanted, and would not let the tradition of servility and humility of his race stop him.

"Well!" exlcaimed Waak, pleased with the development of matters. He pulled a small jar from his saddlebag and placed it on the ground before him. "A fair trade, Pelat. For all of the information you can give us."

Pelat made a step forward, grinning, picked up the jar and examined it. Then he replaced it, and sat down across Waak, eyeing him with curiosity. He had a weather-beaten face of a traveller, and yet there was this hint of youth on his face only a person living a life of freedom could have. Waak could not find any lie or fault in him as he poked around with the Force.

"We are on a mission to Gnath," said Waak carefully. The reaction of the Malaskians was more or less the same as that of the woman at the inn. They checked; some winced, but all of them had horror written down in every line of their small, round faces. Pelat, however, winced only a little, and then nodded seriously.

"Of course, only the Jedi would dare venture there," he said quietly, "You wish to hear rumours from me, I suppose, Jedi knight?"

"You suppose well," said Waak earnestly.

"Well," sighed Pelat, aware that his companions have distanced themselves away considerably and were distributing food among themselves, because they did not want to hear about the infernal land. Larynthe was sitting calmly and staring at Pelat with an air of expectation – which kind of a horror story he had to retell?

"That infernal land has been quiet for many decades," he began, with an air of a good storyteller. "and the few foolish that ventured there have not come back. The Rhaats, however, those in need of supplies – heating, water, material they could use for building their houses on the borders of Rhaat – do not have a choice. Many have gone there; but only some have returned."

"There are some, however, who act as guides for the inexperienced and who are willing to pay for it, of course," he went on, sweeping with his glance over Larynthe. "Some, who know how to avoid the liquid soil that falls in and buries one alive; who know how to find their way out of the labyrinths of hot lava; who know when which volcano erupts and how the rivers of lava flow. They spoke… of a shadow living there, a shadow that preys upon all living, of whichever race. And they teach that the quieter and the less fearful a person is, the more likely it is for the shadow to leave them alone."

A Sith would be drawn to someone if he would sense fear or anger, Larynthe thought quickly, yes, of course! But why would one call him a shadow? Was it because he never showed his face? Or was the imagination of the Malaskians so fantastic that it saw shadows where there was a mortal being? Come to think of it… could he be mortal?

"Since when has this shadow been preying on wanderers?" asked Waak.

"It is very hard to say," said Pelat thoughtfully, furrowing his brow; at the mention the shadow his companions completely abandoned him and began preparing a meal behind his back, muttering between themselves and casting anxious glances at the two Jedi. "Ever since I began to travel, and that was eleven years ago. It is impossible to say whether the rumours of it spread before my time of wandering."

"Eleven years!" exclaimed Waak, looking at Larynthe, completely forgetting about his dispute with her, whereas she obviously felt the same, for confusion in the glances of both was genuine. "Holy Force! Is it human? Has anyone seen it, actually, and came back to tell the tale?"

"You ask many dangerous questions, Jedi," said Pelat quietly, shaking his head and inclining it toward his companions as though to indicate how dangerous his questions were. "One said that it was like a ghost, transparent, a rushing cloak of darkness that could appear at two places at once, and cross great distances within one breath. He is very experienced, this guide. He never allowed himself to feel fear when he ventured into the lava land. And the shadow always left him alone, though he had seen it."

Larynthe noticed that he would not speak the name of Gnath for the life of him; but he was obviously a very respected and daring hunter, among his kind. For they treated him with great respect and watched him with horror and admiration as he spoke about the infernal land. They undoubtedly regarded him as very brave indeed. But what the Malaskians considered as brave was nothing compared to what the Jedi considered as brave; this, again, was nothing Larynthe considered as brave.

"He is very wise, then," said Waak, giving him a reassuring smile. "Can you recall his name?"

"Naturally, he is very famous," said Pelat, seeing the end of this conversation, what made him speak more quickly. "Soshtah is his name. Soshtah of a tribe which lives on the southern slopes of the great Mountain of Joy in the land of Rhaat."

"Mountain of Joy?" asked Waak, raising his eyebrows at the Malaskian. "I am not familiar with such a mountain."

"Perhaps the Jedi have a different name of it," said Pelat, shrugging. "But use our word, and ask for directions; everyone knows of it, in Rhaat, for there are great mines built under it. Mines, which are in possession of Droddians."

His face darkened. It was common knowledge that the two races could not stand each other. The Droddians, physically superior, had long been enslaving and killing the Malaskians wherever they went, but in Rhaat a peace treaty has once been signed between the two sides. However, the animosity went centuries back and some things were impossible to change, thought Larynthe. So many Malaskian families had been slaughtered by the Droddians in the pre-war period that this was a source of hatred that could not go away as easily.

"Now, I cannot recall much more, if you would exclude mad-women's tittle-tattle whose fear got the better of them," Pelat said.

Larynthe cast a look of superiority at Waak, who unawares looked aside, at her, at the mention of the exactly same phrase she used. Waak turned to the Malaskian once again, feeling that this was a test for his capabilities, obviously, and resigning to face it with all the strength he had. He probed around the Malaskian who seemed to notice Waak was trying to determine whether there was something more to tell and sat quietly, staring back at him. After a while, Waak nodded.

"Very well," he said at length, getting to his feet, "Thank you for all of your help. The Kluth is well deserved."

"Thank you, Jedi," said Pelat, bowing to him and picking up the jar with a look of greed in his small eyes, "You are very generous and justify good reputation of the Jedi."

Slightly mollified with this flattery, Waak turned to Larynthe, as the Malaskians were now quietly mounting their donkeys and still casting anxious glances at the two. The Albinians treated every race except for the Caelians, who were fell into a separate category, with arrogance and superiority. However, the Jedi respected all the races and treated them as equals.

"I say we head straight to Rhaat," said Waak as soon as they were on horseback once again and the Malaskians tiny dots on the horizon. "We have enough food and water to cross the desert and that would save us a week at least."

"All right," said Larynthe quietly, her head buzzing with thoughts.

"What do you think about this shadow business?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him in surprise. He was asking her for her opinion? Surely not because he wanted to hear it, she thought; but because he believed it would educative if he tried to get her to speak. Could he really be that sure he was infallible? She never saw this characteristic in him before; it had been well hidden under the mask of tolerance and readiness to help that one could not notice it until his position and his principles were jeopardized. In war, said Bakku once, everyone shows his or her true face. And it was so very true, she felt.

"Do you ask me this because you sincerely want to hear my opinion," she asked, after a moment of thought, "or because you simply want me to say something and with it justify your position of a teacher?"

It was his turn to look surprised, and at last, because she hit the nerve (as what she said was true, of course), she threw him off track. Suddenly her tongue was sharp as a razor, and she both had the nerve and dare to say what she thought aloud. She could not help her thoughts, he knew; but she could choose not to say them aloud.

"Why do you suddenly hate me, Larynthe?" he asked, with desperation in his voice. "What have I done to you?"

"Oh, here he goes, playing the victim again," she snorted. "Everyone can be wrong but Waak-Lin always has to be right."

"I never said…" he started, anger rising within him. "What in the name of the Force is wrong with you? You are acting like a Sith!"

She drew her horse and stared at him; finally, her mouth stretched into a small smile.

"The world is not black and white, Waak," she said patiently. "Nor is the population of Force-sensitive people divided into Sith and Jedi."

"Right," he snarled, "Then how would you call the way you have been acting until now? You have been presumptuous, undermining my authority, impertinent, and what is the most important, angry all of the time."

"And what if that is just the way I am?" she suddenly asked, her chest rising quickly as she said the very thing that frightened her aloud. "Does that automatically make me a Sith? Can I not be a Jedi anymore? Just because I do not fit into the traditional picture of one?"

Waak breathed heavily, staring at her, at loss what to say, not even remembering he could poke around her feelings with the Force.

"Larynthe, is this mission affecting you?" he asked quietly.

"You see?" she shouted triumphantly, now looking slightly mad. "You are always treating me like a child! If this mission is affecting you, Larynthe, I can drop you off somewhere and continue the journey on my own," she imitated his voice contemptuously. "Once in my life I say my opinion aloud, and just because it does not fit into your picture of how things stand, you immediately dismiss it and patronise me! Don't the Jedi encourage freedom of thought? My teacher always wanted to hear my opinion and was very interested in it, as a matter of fact; he believes that whatever it is that I say can say loads of things about my progress. He always said that teaching should be a two-way process, and you are as stubborn as a Malaskian donkey, will not even hear about it, unless it fits in with your holy principles!"

"What you said about the Sith the first night… this is about this, is it?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even but failing, "It is unnatural! It is ridiculous! One cannot turn a Sith!"

"This is not about my claims," she persisted, not hiding her anger that was now sprouting out of her and pouring over him. "This is about principles. About your principle, which states that you are not interested in other people's opinions, unless they fit into your own. I heard your position in the matter, and I have accepted it, do you hear me? I do not agree with it, I said so openly, but I have accepted it. I believe this requires a great strength of character. And for a person, for whom I always believed to be firm in his beliefs, wise and intelligent, to suddenly display such shallowness of thought and immaturity, not to be able to do that… you have greatly disappointed me, Waak. And even more with your persistent efforts to keep to your short-sightedness and your accusations, instead of looking within yourself and searching for the truth there, rather than constantly fishing for my emotions and wondering whether there was something to 'fix'."

She spurred her horse and left him behind, his face showing clear surprise and astonishment. She had never spoken to him in such a way, always agreed with him and was always being friendly. He stared after her, her hair billowing as she rode on, not looking back. There was something dangerous in all of this, he thought; and yet, what she last said hit him straight in the heart.


	8. Chapter 7 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm only using some of the Star Wars concepts for my story and nothing belongs to me.

In this chapter we return to our three Sith again and get the chance to follow one of the lessons the two are given.

Cassie

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CAP. VII – Death and Thunder

Fog rose around the Temple of Sith, making it look from below as though the Temple itself was sitting upon clouds, the immortal fire of Yllen burning steadily atop of the highest tower. Its sight instilled fear and made every creature avert its eyes from it; to some, however, it meant home. Devotion to the Dark side and cold rage dwelt within the marble corridors and staircases, and lurked behind the iron gate resembling a prison gate. As much as it used to be a prison to the knights of the Sith when they were young, now it was their home, their sanctuary and they loved it for what it was. Now that they were allowed out in the world, they began appreciating the Sith Temple more, having seen a bit of the capital city of Gotan and coming to the conclusion that they could not feel at home anywhere else except in the Sith Temple.

Lord Tammutyen came out of his meditation chamber, yawning and gazing absently at the floor. He stretched out his senses and looked for his sister. She was immersed deeply in something, and she was sitting alone in the library. Figures, he thought with a smirk, changing into his long robes and lighting up a cigar as he gazed out of the window, toward the horizon. The vast land of Gotan spread before his eyes, reaching as far as his physical eyes could see. But the Sith Temple was a dark riddle, a lurking shadow, shrouded by rage… His Master was moving quickly with his plans and Tammutyen sensed his power beaming down upon him from the highest tower. He had been at work for days, and he barely came out. But for the first time in Tammutyen's life, he sensed him reach across space to the world, his disembodied will travelling around and gathering information, watching, listening, never sleeping. "It is only a matter of time, my apprentice," he told him a few days ago, "before the world knows us. You must be ready, to stand by my side and spread fire and Darkness across the whole of Horukaan."

"Tarra," said Tammutyen as he entered the library; she did not turn, for she sensed him coming, and was still leaning over the large map that lay before her with a furrowed brow. It was a map showing the known lands of Horukaan.

Horukaan was so vast that the known territories covered only one tenth of it. The larger regions stretched out to north, to the land of Gnath, where their Master received the teachings, and Gotan was only a small dot next to the land of Rhaat, as vast as it was, notorious for its ruler, and for his strict laws. The ruler of Gotan ruled it with a steely hand, and his punishments were severe. Not many ventured into Gotan; for the greater part because of its geographic position, but also because of its king. Although the closeness of the land of Gnath might implicate that the climate should be warm and agreeable, the mountains that covered a bigger part of Gotan were high and broad, so that the land covered in ice and snow during the winter and during most of the other seasons. The very heart of the mountain land, where the Court and the capital city were, the Sith Temple rising above the precipice and overlooking the city, was situated on a plateau of one of such large mountain ranges. There were a few mountain lakes surrounding it, nested between the rock and snow.

"Tammu," Tarralyanna said quietly, tapping her finger on the map. "Do you still have that book Master gave you with the drawings of the Jedi Temple?"

"Of course," he said, wheeling about and heading for the shelves at the side of the library where he usually sat and worked. "Hang on… Here it is."

He placed it on the table before her, and she took it up eagerly. He sat down next to her, pulling at his cigar and blowing smoke all over her map. Tarralyanna flipped through the book, finding the section she was looking for quickly. She brushed her hand against his and shuddered.

"Tammutyen," she said. "Have you not eaten?"

"Master left nothing for me," he said quietly, examining his fingers. She felt he had been meditating too often lately.

"But…" she started, aghast. He had never been kept hungry for so long.

"I suppose he wants me to learn how to control my urges for feeding," said Tammutyen shrugging. He obviously tried to forget all about it by meditating so often.

She nodded, placing her head on his massive shoulder to show him her support. He smiled and embraced her. He was as cold as a stone statue.

"Better not remind me of it, dear," he said softly. "Let us talk about something else."

"Easily," she said with a smirk. "Why do you suppose the Jedi construct such simple weapons?"

She tapped the picture of a long, light sword, traditionally used by the Jedi, with her finger. The book said that each Jedi would construct his or her own sword at the age of fifteen; it was made of Jalá, a very light but hard metal that was dug out of a mine situated a few miles away from the Jedi Temple. It was the pilgrimage destination of the young Jedi as they looked for the material to forge their swords. Tammutyen flexed his chest and exhaled noisily.

"It is my presumption that they do it so that they would be able to learn how to use them in a shorter time span. After all, they have five years or so to learn it. One could not accomplish the same with the Ptah or the Saragon."

"We have not exactly been practising with our weapons since an early age," she said. "I made my Saragon on Master's orders when I was twelve."

"No, but we were given toys in such a shape," he reminded her seriously. "It does not look as though it can be considered as a real exercise, but I sure benefited from my toy. It introduced me to the Ptah's unique balance, something that is very important in handling it."

"It did?" she asked, lifting her eyebrows at him, but then looking back at the book. "Yes, I suppose."

"What is it that he plans?" asked Tammutyen all of a sudden, looking at her, who was rubbing his back and trying to conclude whether he had ever been this cold to the touch. "Have you seen anything?"

She sighed and pushed the book away. Over the past few months she felt and heard many things, none of which made sense to her.

"Someone felt something; someone knows something," she said, looking at him with her sapphire eyes. She retold him her dream about the Jedi. He listened, his dark eyes glittering with excitement once he realised what her vision meant.

"He must know, Tammutyen, he must," she said after a long pause that followed her account of her vision. "I have sensed he has turned himself toward the world and is not focused so much on us. He seems to believe we know what we are doing and that we can work alone."

Suddenly Tarralyanna jerked and gasped; and while he was wondering whether she was having a vision, he felt it too. A clear, commanding call of the Dark Lord. The both of them jumped to their feet and left the library. A half-smoked cigar remained behind, abandoned in a large ashtray where Tammutyen had left it.

They were only halfway down the corridor leading to the tower when the Dark Lord descended the stairs and began walking in their direction. They hurried toward him and got to their knees as he came close enough. He came to a halt sheer before them, regarded them for a few seconds, before he said:

"Go to your chambers and put on your training robes; take your weapons and bring warm clothes with you. I shall be waiting for you in the entrance hall."

Heads full of questions, the two Sith replied nodded, not having a clue what this was about. The Dark Lord sensed their confusion and added softly:

"You are going to ride with me. Now go; you have half an hour to get ready."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

It was the second Luth hour; and at the top of the street leading to the southern gate three riders appeared. Even without his insignia, without his staff and dressed modestly, in a travelling cloak, there was no mistaking the ruler of Gotan. People lowered themselves to their knees as he passed them by, his face obscured by the black hood. He was followed by two figures in black also wearing hoods, but none could mistake them, either. Rumours spread about the ruler's two assistants, who were, according to the ruler himself, to be treated exactly as he was. Some thought they were his children; some thought they were his long-lost kin he decided to take under his wing; but all of them feared the two, because of their their behaviour, because of the distance they kept from everyone and everything, and for the inexplicable air of rage around them, which was quite understandable if one supposed they were his kin. Whenever seen, they were walking together, whispering to each other. There was something sinister about them, the Head of the Royal Guard remarked. They did not see them very often, either, and were very grateful for it. They have been seen roaming around the town, keeping to themselves, and people got to their knees before them as they would do before the ruler of the mountain land himself, whereas they awaited this with arrogance and dismissal. They were always dressed like royalty, the woman wearing a jewel on her forehead and the man a circlet on his head.

Now they were riding one beside the other, wearing black cloaks that obscured the vision of what they were wearing underneath. The attention of plebeians, however, was attracted by what they were carrying. Among bundles attached to the princess' saddle, there was a long quiver with weapons protruding from it and there was no mistaking the clunking of metal as she rode in a light trot behind the ruler of Gotan with her glance fixed firmly on his back. The prince carried a very long, thin scabbard over his back, which he wore tightened to his chest by a strap; this was some sort of a weapon, they concluded, but they have never seen anything like it. Under his cloak protruded a wider and heavier scabbard of what was clearly a double-edged sword, the tip of it resting on his boot. The ruler of Gotan wore such a wide cloak that was spread all over his horse' back, that it was quite impossible for the people to see what kind of weaponry (and if at all) he was carrying, and this had been his intention.

In that moment general Korrugen came down the Court stairs, oblivious to what was going on, twiddling with his gloves and muttering to himself, apparently displeased with something. When he spotted the strange procession, however, he froze on the spot and hurried toward it.

"My Lord!" he called, running. The ruler of Gotan drew his horse back and looked lazily in his direction. The two Sith stopped as well, but kept their distance from their Master, the straps their horses wore over their chests glittering. Glancing from one to the other, the general quickly understood what was going on, and came to his knees as the Dark Lord veered toward him.

"You left no orders, my Lord," he said quickly, aware of the Dark Lord's glance fixed on his back, all of this being watched by the people behind their backs. "How—how long will you be absent?"

"I left orders with Ferrighan," said the Dark Lord quietly, leaning a little forward in his saddle, his dark eyes regarding his servant from such a great height. "I am going away with my students for a few days."

"Oh…" said the general, looking up a little to stare at the horse's hooves gleaming with wax. "Yes, yes, of course."

"Farewell, then, Korrugen," said the Dark Lord, turning his horse and adding over his shoulder, "And remember what we spoke about."

"Of course, my Lord," cried the general after him, getting to his feet slowly. Tammutyen and Tarralyanna rode after him, nodding at him in their passing, at what the general got to his knees once again, remembering in the last moment that he was supposed to kneel as well. He stared after them, struggling to his feet, his glance fixed on Tammutyen's long scabbard. Something odd is going on, he thought, furrowing his brow. The southern gate opened and the three rode out, with guards throwing themselves to their knees upon their passing and staring after them long after they were gone.

"In what do they assist him, anyway?" asked one guard in a whisper as the horses were now three tiny dots in the distance.

"Something weird is going on," whispered another. "They appeared out of the blue, just like that, and no one had seen them arrive. Are they his kin? No one knows. And now he is taking them somewhere. We have seen him go out so rarely, let along accompanied by someone. It is a fact that the King likes to be left alone."

"The princess is very pretty," said the third. "But her eyes…"

"She cannot be Albinian," whispered the first.

"But the prince is definitely Droddian," said the second. "Or he has Droddian blood. The size of him!"

"With skin as pale as his?" sneered the third one. "Impossible. His skin is as white as snow."

"When have you seen his skin?" asked the first with interest, passing the spear into his other hand, "He always wears hoods and gloves."

"They rode out two days ago, when the wind was very strong," said the third thoughtfully. "It blew off his hood and exposed his face. He has black hair and black eyes, true; but his face is as pale as moonlight."

They looked back in the direction in which the three disappeared, and sank into brooding silence. They did not know what to think of this.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Arid vegetation skimmed under the hooves of the three horses and the two Sith rode alongside of each other, keeping a distance from the Dark Lord, whose cloak was billowing wildly in the wind. Tarralyanna was beside herself with excitement. This was some sort of a test, she concluded, her features hardening. And tests were there to be passed. Tammutyen thought that their Master was leading them to assist him in some sort of an execution or something like that, in which their battle skills would finally be put to a test in a real-life situation. His dark eyes gleamed with excitement, too, but he was on alert.

The Dark Lord pulled back his horse at the edge of a precipice. He was gazing intently at something below, his horse eagerly stomping the ground. The Dark Lord's power could be sensed by animals and this was the same horse he always rode, which got used to him. He turned his head toward the two Sith, who stared back, their hoods billowing in the wind.

"Follow me," yelled the Dark Lord, turning his horse sharply, and spurring it over the edge.

Tarralyanna gasped, her eyes round; and Tammutyen stared after his Master with his mouth slightly open. The Dark Lord's horse galloped easily through the air, with a shimmering, red thin line showing underneath its hooves, resembling a thin bridge that appeared out of nowhere. They exchanged one quick glance and then nodded at each other. They could understand how he was doing it, but they have never tried something of the sort before. They did not fear death; for they faced it hundreds of times throughout their childhood. When their Master nearly killed them in a fit of rage; when Tarralyanna fell out of the window; when Tammutyen got pierced through his lungs, at what his Master saved his life by altering his organism and the way it functioned.

Side by side, not thinking for a moment that they might be unable to do this, they spurred their horses, which were shaking in fear and trying to turn back, toward the edge of the precipice. Tarralyanna closed her eyes, immersed herself in the Dark side and wrapped it all around herself and over her horse. Her horse stepped over the edge, hovered in mid-air for a moment, and then went on galloping across the gorge, plunging forward. It sensed power all around it, atop of it, and was given speed and strength by the Dark side with which Tarralyanna surrounded herself. Tammutyen was a galloping rage, his face strained in concentration, his lips twitching in the effort this state required of him. Luth trembled a little as it watched them ride through the air, carried on the wings of the Dark side.

It sure felt like dying; but to Tarralyanna it also felt liberating. Tammutyen on the other hand used his Rage to give him focus and help him concentrate; but at some point he felt he did not need to strain himself so much, because the Dark side seemed to understand what he was doing.

His heart felt light, along with every muscle in his massive body, and his horse landed easily on the ground of the other side of the gorge, panting with effort, but flaring excitedly its nostrils. The Dark Lord was standing quite still, watching them. The Luth sun hid behind a few clouds and veiled the world in soothing darkness. Tarralyanna breathed, looked around herself and then grinned. Tammutyen halted some distance away from her.

The Dark Lord nodded; but his one nod was worth a thousand words' praise, thought Tammutyen. He slowly turned his horse and led the way down the gentle slope and toward one of the plateaus rising above the small, majestic lake of Balkeen. It was a deep, clear, sapphire blue mountain lake, seated in between the mountain ranges and surrounded by the mass of light green and yellow, the arid vegetation for which Gotan was famous. The Dark Lord dismounted his horse by an old, leafless, knotty tree, and led it onward by the rein. The two did the same.

"Here we shall spend two days," said the Dark Lord, turning to them. "There is something I want to teach you."

He led them toward what looked like a shallow cave on the side of the mountain that rose to their right, and there began to unsaddle his horse. They followed his example, not saying a word. The Dark Lord's horse trotted toward the lake eagerly and the two other horses followed him.

"And now, my students," said the Dark Lord softly, "we shall eat."

Without a word, he pulled out a jar full of something dark red and pushed it toward Tammutyen, who seized it eagerly, thanked him for it and then quickly cracked it open. Tarralyanna received a large, egg-shaped orange fruit and drew a dagger from her belt, eager to taste it. The Dark Lord dipped his spoon into his own food and silence fell on the three Sith.

"When my own master taught me of the nature of the Dark side," spoke the Dark Lord after they have finished with their meal, Tammutyen leaning against the trunk of a tree and smoking with gusto, his cheeks now slightly pink. "He taught me of what he knew, of what he learned in his disembodied form, as he was waiting for a student worthy of receiving his teachings; but also of what did not have the chance to accomplish during his life on Horukaan. Once he taught me all that he wanted to, he was finally able to end the torment of the neither here nor there existence, and he passed on into the Dark side. I have studied his theories, pertaining to things he did not have the chance to accomplish during his life, perfected them over the years and put them into practice. Some of it you have already been taught."

"Most Sith Lords – those we know of – have taught their apprentices many things I have never taught you. And many things you know and take for granted, they never knew, for those teachings were not known in their time. It is simply how I decided to teach you. But you will find that your further education shall come easy, once you have mastered all of the lessons I have given you until now."

"Your lessons shall begin tomorrow morning," he went on, not looking at them,. "We have come here to be alone and not to be bothered with the constraints of walls. The Temple I have built served both as a sanctuary and home for you, as protection against prying eyes. You grew up far away from the world. But now, I am afraid, the world will be shaken with the Dark side. There is a chance a Jedi might sense us. But there is no helping it. We must do what we must do."

"You will learn," he went on after a short pause, during which he was drinking wine, "how to channel the Force. By this I mean to actually give it a shape in the physical world and thus make it visible for every eye to see."

Tarralyanna listened hard, trying to conclude what this might be. But it was clear that the Dark Lord would not say a word more on the issue. He sent them off to sleep, and the last thing Tarralyanna remembered, before she fell asleep, exhausted, was the picture of her Master standing with his hands crossed on his back, watching the flickering light of descending Luth on the smooth skin of Balkeen.

oooooooooooooooooo

Tarralyanna woke slowly after a long and restful night only to be distantly aware that Tammutyen was lying close to her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Tammutyen was wide-awake, his eyes open and fixed at the cloudy sky. Still a little drowsy, she reached out with her senses to look for the Dark Lord, who called to her as he felt her brush against him through the Dark side. Although hungry and thirsty, Tammutyen and Tarralyanna got up and immediately proceeded toward the lake, where their Master was. He was standing facing the water; whether he slept at all, Tarralyanna would never know.

"Clear your minds," he said quietly, not looking at them, his hands on his back, now pacing and staring at his feet, his black cloak gently sweeping the ground. Clouds obscured the garish light of the giant Cyrron and it seemed that the whole of Horukaan was supporting their mission here. The Sith did not enjoy sunlight of any kind and Tammutyen ventured outside only when Cyrron descended behind the horizon. "Feel the Dark side within you and around you. Good."

Then he turned toward them, his dark eyes glinting.

"Now follow the traditional teachings of the Sith Order," he said softly, with a mysterious smile and lifting his chin. "First – Force Shield... and Force Lighting."

Tarralyanna's heart leapt up. If this was what she thought it was, it was something legendary. There were rumours of it written down in the historical books her Master gave her to study from. But until now she thought this was merely that, a legend, a product of people's fantasy, people who witnessed the power of the Dark side. Just like they spoke about 'murdering with glance' and 'spitting fire', she believed they imagined such things. So it truly exists!

"I shall explain first the latter, the more legendary one. The Dark side is accumulated within one's spirit. The physical body must not do anything; it must remain impartial, for the strength and power amassed can easily destroy it. Thus be wary, my students. Commence only when you are certain that you have detached yourselves well enough. After it is accumulated, it is necessary to completely devote oneself and concentrate on what you are about to do. The mind must be united in purpose and striving toward the same goal. You must be certain that the Dark side is accumulated within your spirits and turned outwards instead of inwards, or else the Force can easily turn back upon you. Yes, this is the hardest lesson yet, as I teach it. Why have the Sith of the past used the Force Lighting so often, and how come they accomplished it before they mastered all of those tedious and strenuous exercises I have forced you to master?"

"Because they have not done it like I do it," he said with a crooked smile, "I do not satisfy myself with partial results. I do not want you to feel fear before the destructive side of Darkness as you unleash the Force Lighting. It can be done, yes; but its effect is feeble and poor compared to what I shall teach you, and on the long run, it can have devastating effects on your bodies, what we desire to avoid at all costs. Do you understand everything I have said so far?"

The both of them nodded, watching him attentively.

"Very well," he said slowly, as though not believing them. Their minds were an open book for him, as he strictly forbade them to hide their thoughts from him, even more after he taught them how to do that.

"I shall watch over you as you practice, so that we can leave as little room for mistakes as possible and I shall interrupt you if anything goes awry. Now, your purpose being well defined, you become a burning will that shall execute it. You must be merciless; your Rage will give you focus, clear your mind and direct it; but this takes more than just employing your Rage, you will find."

He turned toward the lake and closed his eyes. Tarralyanna held her breath. Suddenly a dark vortex appeared in the Force, powerful, devouring, with their Master in its centre. Tarralyanna felt as though she could not breathe and watched as wind began to rise around the Dark Lord, never

touching him. That is what he meant by the destructive side of the Dark side, Tarralyanna thought.

The Dark Lord slowly lifted his hands parallel to the ground. There was a roaring voice that was not heard; a booming sound that was not a sound; and it seemed as though only now he opened himself to the Dark side. As seen with the eyes of the Force, Tarralyanna saw him as a vortex of Darkness, vibrating on a deafeningly low tone, swirling, flashing and raging; she withdrew her senses, unable to bear it any longer and resorted to watching with her physical eyes. There was an explosion in the Force, a powerful explosion that shook it; and an audible, low rumble cut through the peacefulness of the mountain lake. Streaks of thunder issued from the hands of the Dark Lord, from the tips of his fingers, and slashed across the lake. And the lake came alive; its surface shook and water exploded to form tall, raging waves spitting foam, answering to this power; the deep blue water became light blue; waves rose like angry serpents and thrashed upon the shores, pouring over the dry soil and moistening the dry grass with the icy cold water.

The Dark Lord lowered his hands, and the vortex of the Dark side diminished, until it died away completely, and all was silent once again. Only slight rippling and bobbing of the surface of the water were witnesses to what just happened. Tarralyanna was still slightly trembling; and as the Dark Lord turned toward them, she sank to one knee. Their Master… was like a God, wielding such power.

"Long enough you have been mastering yourselves," he said softly, as though nothing happened, making a pace in their direction. "It is time you showed yourselves to the world, servants of the Dark side."


	9. Chapter 8 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm only using some of the Star Wars concepts for my story and nothing belongs to me.

The rift between Larynthe and her childhood friend finally culminates as Larynthe has a vision of the Sith standing by the lake. The voice of reason – the voice of old master Bakku – finally forces Waak to see sense and they continue travelling north together.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. VIII – The Force's Prophet

Darkness fell on the little camp in the desert of Gorg. Larynthe of the Jedi sat beside the fire, which now served as a warming tool as well as a source of heat to cook dinner on, as the nights in the desert could get surprisingly cold, sat with her Jalá sword in her hands. She was cleaning it diligently and humming a cheerful march under her breath. Waak sat a little further away, trying not to look at her, but to appear immersed in drinking from his tin cup, casting an occasional glance at the dinner that was cooking merrily in a small cauldron suspended over the fire, spreading welcome, although already too familiar, smells.

Her outburst served its purpose; if not to bring him to reason, to make him understand how she felt and what occupied her mind, then to shake him out of that blind state of paternalism. He did not how to act; he, master Waak-Lin of the Council of the Jedi, did not know how to act! And the very thought both scared him as it worried him. Of course, he would never admit it aloud, as Larynthe knew, but she was content enough with his reaction, with the way he was acting now and there were times, too, when she felt he was worried about his own conduct, what left her immensely pleased with herself. She did not know what she meant with all of this; she certainly did not believe she was crossing over to the Dark side. She just knew she wanted to be heard, that she wanted to be understood, for Waak to finally give in and try to understand her, whatever it was that needed to be understood.

As for Waak himself, he was thoughtful for another reason; he sensed Darkness around her more than once, and although it was a short flicker, probably at random, something she was not aware of, it still worried him. He loved Larynthe as a friend, as a dearest friend, and he cared about her. He would not allow the Dark side have her, he decided, no matter what the cost. She would not become one of the disgraceful fallen Jedi, if he could help it. But, she looked perfectly all right, and quite herself, he thought as he watched her clean her sword. She wanted respect – and he would give her respect. Nobody likes to be treated like a child, and perhaps this new relationship of a master and apprentice, given that they used to be good friends, confiding in each other, was affecting her, making her feel inferior and useless. Waak was made a master and a member of the Council, even though he was still very young; and Larynthe was still an apprentice. Perhaps this was the root of all evil, thought Waak.

"I thought we might have dinner in the first village we come across, and sleep there," he said. "I have rather had enough of Hawa beans; and you?"

"I suppose," she said curtly, still smiling to herself and eagerly rubbing a stubborn piece of dirt on her blade.

"Thought we might have a proper meal," he went on, as though not perceiving her wish not to speak. "Soup… perhaps even a cake."

"That is what is troubling you, is it?" she asked with a sneer, looking up. As soon as she realised what she was saying and how she was acting, she got back to polishing her sword with a furrowed brow. Why did she react this way? "What we eat?"

"And you?" he asked shrewdly. Recently, in her dealings with Larynthe, he learned that it is sometimes best to ask a question in return, than to try to explain his position.

"I am most certainly not troubled by my scarce choice of food," she said with a snort, what was meant to be a good-natured laugh.

"You once used to be very attached to the Tower Cake," he said softly, trying to evoke something familiar within her by mentioning the past.

"When in the safety and comfort of the Temple, I most certainly like to have my favourite food," she said, but she did not deny her preference, what made Waak very happy. "But in the wilderness, on a mission, I know better than to act spoiled."

He disregarded her obvious insult, and caught on to the last remaining thread that she left behind.

"What do you believe we shall find on this mission?" he asked seriously. "Have you seen anything? Felt anything? I am asking because I really want to hear what you think about it," he hastened to add, because he sensed she was about to sneer again. "I heard you wake from a nightmare a few days ago."

Larynthe seemed to be immersed in her own thoughts for a moment, and he did not want to disturb her; she was frowning a little as she rubbed the blade, and then at last, she threw aside the rag which she used for cleaning and replaced her sword in its scabbard. She was tempted to speak about her nightmare, but did not, for she believed that Waak would take it as a definite proof she was tempted by the Dark side and would immediately take her back to the Jedi Temple for 'healing'. As much as she feared these new parts of herself, she did not want to run away from them. She wanted to experience them, and to learn what they are all about. Only in understanding them and rising above them, she could truly become a Jedi master she wanted to be. For each Jedi had her or his own ideal of a Jedi master, she believed, and not many would actually come to bring to life their own vision, as some, like Waak, would have believed that her ideas were in opposition with the principles of the Order. Larynthe's vision of a Jedi master she wanted to be was obviously uncommon.

"I believe that there is a Sith Lord out there, somewhere, yes," she said quietly, picking up her own tin cup, with Waak's glance fixed on her. He is so worried, so caring, and it is so superfluous and boring, she thought. "But I do not believe he has any plans. I believe he is simply studying the Force as we are, only its other aspect. That is all."

"Now, do not throw your cup at me or storm away, Larynthe," said Waak, making her turn her head in surprise toward him. "But I cannot recall there has ever been such an instance when a Sith remained impartial to the affairs of Horukaan."

"At those times there has always been a Dark general who would start a war, a fanatical genius that wanted to rule the world," she said wisely, looking him straight in the eye. "Correct me if I am wrong, but I cannot think of anyone right now that might fit in the description. A Dark general of such capabilities and inclinations would have to have an enormous ego that would not allow him to remain in the shadow. We would know of him."

Waak stared at her, startled with her logic; it was true, if there was such a person, they would have known. A general needs an army; and he cannot be just anyone. He would have to be a prince, an emperor, a ruler of some kind or a nobleman.

"Let me see…" Waak started thoughtfully, laying aside his cup. "King Dankaar, perhaps."

Dankaar was the king of a vast Droddian territory, which stretched widely across the Third Continent, and was infamous for his ruthlessness and bloodthirstiness. However, king Dankaar signed the peace treaty after the last War with all other races, under the condition that their territory and its people were left undisturbed and that the Droddians were not prosecuted, of those who lived in other countries, nor used as slaves, as Malaskians were in some parts of the world.

"You are looking at the small picture," said Larynthe, not looking at him. "Dankaar's behaviour is in his nature; Droddians are like that, ruthless and savage, attacking anyone who is not to their liking. You cannot blame a scorpion for stinging – it is his nature."

Waak inclined his head, dumbfounded with her way of thinking.

"However," she spoke on darkly after a short pause, "there is the possibility that the Sith would become this general himself. After all, we do not know much about them, or about Sith teachings. There is no guarantee that the Sith are not skilled in war tactic. Thus there is a possiblity that he himself could become a dark general."

"I thought you believed he was alone and that he studies the Force. That he is not preparing for war," said Waak, lifting his eyebrows at her. She looked at him sharply, after what her expression changed into pity.

"I am merely trying to consider all possibilities, unlike some," she said quietly, looking down on her hands. "Without any bias or prejudice. Anyhow, if this is the case, we would have our general searching for his army; and that, I daresay, would have to be one large army. He would not be able to find one without raising attracting attention. As long as he is alone in hiding, I do not believe that the world has anything to fear."

"An amazing perspective," said Waak, despite of himself.

"One needs to think without bias, that is all," she said coldly, reminding herself that she did not need his praise, which could easily turn into scorn. "And one needs to put himself into the shoes of another."

"Of the Sith?" he asked.

"Of the Sith," she affirmed calmly, now seeing what her inner voice was trying to warn her about, because Waak already seemed doubtful. "I do not fear the Dark side, Waak." She looked at him seriously. "I believe in myself and in my own principles, and I believe them to be firm enough to stand up against anything. I do not believe there is anything in the world that could shatter them."

"The Dark side is treacherous; it could come under the guise of goodness to tempt you," said Waak carefully, aware that he was treading on very thin ice.

"It cannot bear the guise of my ideals and principles, the things I hold on to," she persisted, again surprised with the level of his ignorance – how come she never saw this in him? "Some things need to be certain. And if a person is true enough to her purpose, nothing can shake her. Not even the almighty Dark side. I have no fear before it, like you do. Fearing it would mean acknowledging that it is more powerful than the light side; that it is more potent and more beautiful. Any Jedi knows otherwise. I despise it, for its treacherousness and vile means to lure the Jedi in; for its insincerity; for its destructive effect upon the flesh. I despise it, but I seek to understand it, without fear before something that is inferior to the Force that I know and serve. And I wish you had the strength to do the same."

She turned away from him and reached out for a ladle to transfer a bit of Hawa beans into her bowl, beginning to eat with a straight face, as though she did not just say what she did. Waak was taken aback and for a moment he sat staring at her, trying to remember what exactly she said, but then slowly followed her example. Is she … possessed? If she is not, how come he never saw this in her? How come he always thought of her as a good friend Larynthe, who would follow him anywhere, who laughed to his jokes and who asked for his advice almost on a daily basis? She wanted nothing from me now, he thought; she was strong enough on her own and Waak had to confess to himself that she was right. In the end, he confessed to himself that he did, perhaps, fear the Dark side.

This time it was Waak who did not show any desire to speak and Larynthe was smiling to herself throughout the whole ride from the Gorg desert northwards. And she was still smiling when they left their rooms in a small hostel in a Malaskian town situated in the first valley beyond the desert. She was very pleased with herself, with what she said and with what she discovered about herself; and what was best, she had not had a single nightmare for two weeks. It seemed as though her unconscious mind has finally made peace with what was passing through her mind during the waking hours and she was not afraid anymore. After all, she reminded herself, enjoying her green coffee, what is there for me to be afraid of, with the Force? It is all-powerful and with it as my caretaker, nothing can harm me.

Sitting in the sunlight of Cyrron, she was cherishing the moment and enjoying the gentle warmth. She closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. To Larynthe and in that moment, the world was exactly as it should be. Waak was staring at the floor and thinking, Malaskian newspapers spread before him. But Waak could not concentrate on reading right now and he did not want to. He could not stop thinking about what she said and about her recent behaviour. He used to believe that she was simply whimsical, that her behaviour was a product of some psychological influences, mostly those coming from her feeling of inferiority; but now he was not so sure of that. His best friend has changed. And atop of all that, he could not ignore the fact that he sensed Darkness around her. He had no idea what it was, he just knew that the Force felt quite different at times around her and although all he knew about the Dark side was from his lessons at the Jedi Temple, he was quite sure that was it. Fear and worry were eating him from inside and he did not know what to do.

In that moment Larynthe felt something and the smile vanished from her face. Her cup fell down with a crash, she gasped and clapped a hand over her forehead and closed her eyes once again, despite of the dreadful sensation that pervaded her. This was it. She had to find the strength to endure and to watch and listen. It was her duty. It was something she had to do. Waak stared at her, not knowing what to do. He could not feel anything, except the torrent of emotions coming from his old friend which was overwhelming.

"Larynthe," he called, jumping to his feet and kneeling down beside her with his hand hovering over her knee, not knowing what to do. She was breathing quickly, pressing her forehead with the tips of her fingers, her eyelids trembling. She looked as though she was sick, he thought. But then why was she pressing her forehead?

"Oh," she moaned. "Oh!"

He reached out to brush her hand away from her forehead, but she pushed him away forecefully.

"Leave me alone," she whispered, in a tense and powerful voice, "I… I have to see!"

Uncertain what she meant by this and what was he supposed to do, he withdrew his hand as though he burned himself, staring at her with deep concern. She did not appear to be sick; her voice told him that she was physically perfectly all right. So what could it be that she could sense, and he could not? He quickly closed his eyes, his hands trembling. Why was he so angry, why was he feeling so helpless?

At last, the visions faded, and Larynthe opened her eyes, breathing deeply. She stared at one point in space ahead of her, without really seeing anything. Waak still had his own eyes closed, frantically searching through the Force, feeling helpless and anxious.

"Waak," she whispered, once she regained control of her voice. The Malaskians, who popped their heads through the door in alarm as they heard a crash, vanished because Waak shooed them away, and now they were quite alone. Or so they thought.

"The Dark Lord!" she whispered, in a hollow, shocked voice. Waak's' eyes flew open, and he sat down on the ground quickly, grabbing her elbow, trying to look into her eyes, searching for the traces of the Dark side in her eyes. But there were none.

"I… I felt him!" she whispered, shaken. "A lake, a deep lake… and snow, all that snow…"

"Like a nightmare?" asked Waak. The look she gave him made his blood run cold, despite of the fact there was no Dark side in her eyes.

"YOU IDIOT!" she roared, flinging him away from herself with all of her might, forgetting she was a Jedi and that she could use the Force."IT WAS NO NIGHTMARE! I am trying to tell you what is it that I have seen, and you believe I am a stupid little child who is having waking dreams!"

Shocked with her outburst, Waak stood leaning over the table, staring at her, uncertain whether to be angry or to be worried. Suddenly there was a feeble cough from one corner of the patio. The both of them looked up; Larynthe, still pressing one hand to her forehead, and Waak, breathing heavily, not knowing what to say or do.

"I daresay you will find," spoke a voice from the shadow, "that your apprentice is telling the truth, master Waak-Lin."

The shadow sprouted long braids and a fray Jedi cloak and advanced toward them in a limp.

"Master Bakku!" called Waak, while Larynthe did not seem to be very surprised with the fact master Bakku was there and closed her eyes again, attempting to recall exactly what she had seen.

The old Bakku looked older than ever, but he was smiling warmly at the both of them. Nodding serenely and calmly to Waak's more than cordial greetings, he sat down to fix his glance on Larynthe.

"Tell me what you have seen," he said quietly. Larynthe opened her eyes, pale and sweaty, looking sickly indeed.

"Deep blue lake, snow on the shores," she whispered in a weary voice, almost mechanically. "The Dark Lord… He shook the lake with the Dark side… I felt it… throttling, enormous power, power so much greater than it is meant for one man to wield…"

"And?" asked Bakku softly. Waak was gaping at Larynthe. There was something going on here that was beyond his comprehension, and at this point, he was very happy indeed that Bakku arrived. He would know how to handle Larynthe.

"But he was not alone…" Larynthe went on, with tears in her eyes – why she was crying, she did not know herself. The vision was so powerful and so impressive that she could not banish it from her mind. The power of the Dark side still throbbed within her chest. "Master Bakku, there are more of them!"

"How many more?" asked Bakku, leaning forward.

"He has an apprentice," whispered Larynthe, "I am almost sure of it! The Dark Lord was showing something to him, displaying his power."

"Is there anything more you can tell me?" asked Bakku patiently, stopping Waak from saying anything by clapping a hand over his mouth. "Where was this? You said you have seen a deep lake, snow on the shores… is there something else? Have you seen either him or his apprentice?"

She closed her eyes obediently, straining her mind; her eyelashes flickered as her eyelids moved; at long last, she opened her eyes.

"No, master," she replied quietly, "I cannot recall anything else."

"Very well," answered Bakku patiently. He tapped her on her hand and smiled softly at her. However, there was no deep care or paternalism in his gesture. Merely fellow-Jedi concern. "Have something sweet and go wash your face with cold water; your senses are exhausted after such an experience."

Larynthe got to her feet shakily and headed toward the door, meaning to go to the toilet. Waak was about to get to his feet and follow her, to ascertain she would be all right, but Bakku pulled him back by the sleeve. Larynthe disappeared through the doorway, walking gingerly and slowly, not looking back, still looking a little lost and confused.

"What does this mean?" Waak asked quietly as soon as she was gone. "What is wrong with her? Why can she sense the Dark side, and we cannot?"

Bakku did not answer at once; instead, he was twiddling with his sleeves. Waak waited patiently.

"You have mistreated your apprentice," he said in a quiet voice. "She wanted to show you something, to tell you something, and you did not listen. Why do you listen to me now? Why are you ready to hear and accept my opinion?"

"Because…" said Waak, swallowing, then appearing outraged. "You are a Jedi master, member of the Council! You are an inspiration to many generations of the Jedi, you are infallible!"

"I am not infallible, young master Waak," said the old Bakku darkly, shaking his head, "Far from it; I made many mistakes in my life. But your mistake is that of prejudice. You believe that titles and age can account for wisdom; that a young Jedi cannot be wise and knowledgeable. Look at yourself – you are probably the youngest master to be a member of the Council. Why? Because you have shown you are a very shrewd tactician, an excellent swordsman, the best we have seen in four generations of the Jedi, and a wise Jedi. But you have failed to treat your apprentice with respect that she deserves. She is no child."

"Why is she acting like this?" asked Waak impatiently, trying to get some answers, now, at last, after so many months of waiting. "Do you truly believe she had a vision?"

"And you do not?" asked Bakku, now looking at him just like Larynthe – with pity. "Why? You believed me when I told you I had a vision and went as far as to ask the Council for permission to investigate. Why is it so hard to believe that Larynthe could have one?"

"Right, let us say that she had," said Waak, boiling from within but resolute not to show it, growing more and more desperate. "She has never been like this, she has never shown such anger and such irritability. Why now? What is different?"

"Finally a reasonable question," said Bakku serenely, pouring himself a bit of green coffee from the steaming teacup placed in the middle of the table. "It is impossible to say why now exactly, and how come it came to Larynthe. There, you see? Bakku acknowledges he does not have a clue about some things. It is not shameful not to know something – it is shameful to deny it."

Waak bowed his head, truly ashamed of himself now. His words hit him straight in the heart. Why was he unable to listen to what Larynthe was telling him, indeed? Why was he so determined to put her at the right place and turn a deaf ear at all she was telling him? When Bakku said it, it was true and it made an impression on him; but when the same thing was said by Larynthe, he could not take her seriously. Why, why?

"But I believe," Bakku went on, perceiving the Waak's struggles with himself and letting it be, knowing that it would do him well, "that your apprentice has been chosen by the Force to be a prophet, to bear witness to the strengthening of the Dark side. We cannot see it clearly, nor feel it – but she can."

Waak went quite pale, and stared at Bakku without a word. Again, he thought, had this been said by Larynthe herself, he would never have believed her. What is more, he would have laughed at her and spent the next couple of hours trying to prove to her she was a young apprentice who still had a lot to learn. He felt like a man who could just start sobbing like a child, a man driven to the edge of his reason merely by pointing out his mistakes.

"Is this why I have sensed the Dark side around her on a few occasions?" he asked in a mere whisper, leaning toward him after casting a glance toward the doorway, completely forgetting that he could use the Force to do that.

"Perhaps," answered Bakku wisely, putting down his cup. "But you will find that Larynthe has been trying to get in contact with the Dark side without realising it. The Force was trying to convey to her the images and the impressions of it through her dreams and through her thoughts and she realised how important it was to listen. She might have dabbled the surface of the Dark side, but she stands firmly on the ground. Otherwise she might have turned to the Dark side before you could say Jedi. But as it is, she can stay where she is, have her visions and insights, and still belong, heart and soul, to the Force she loves and serves."

"Larynthe," sobbed Waak all of a sudden, unable to help himself, tears running down his cheeks, "And I was beastly to her!"

"Prejudice, prejudice," said the old Bakku, pretending he was not not impressed by the awful picture of a grown man crying. "The Dark side is not the only root of evil, young master Waak, you know."

"So what do we do now? Is she going to be all right?" asked Waak, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"Where this duty of hers will lead her, I cannot tell," said Bakku seriously, but placidly. "We must let her be, and you need to start treating her better, not to judge her but to be proud of her for accepting her duty and respecting her for the sacrifice she is making for all of us. The whole of the Council has seen nothing, and is still seeing nothing – but Larynthe is."

"As for the Sith," Bakku went on, "I want us to continue our journey together. We must find him, whatever the cost."

"But…" started Waak, after he calmed his nerves with a bit of cordial, "If she can see them, can they see us?"

"Impossible to tell," said Bakku, without a trace of nervousness in his voice, now sampling cakes. "But if they can, they must know we mean to harm, that we are merely investigating."

Waak remembered his thoughts and plans how to destroy the Sith with a painful pang, and he swore to himself that he would completely banish them from his mind. The old Bakku looked thoughtful as he prodded a large, wobbling heap on his plate what was meant to be a Malaskian speciality with his spoon.

"Does the Force want us to fight?" he asked rhetorically, in a quiet and impressive voice. "It is showing us the strengthening of the Dark side, but it is only showing us what is going on, not what we must do. We must be ready for everything, but what is most important, now is the time for us to show our true strength and where our loyalties lie. It is not the time to start questioning our principles."

"Larynthe said…" whispered Waak tearfully, hoping she would not be back soon, "that I was afraid of the Dark side. That this is why I want to destroy the Sith so badly."

"And do you think she is right?" asked Bakku without looking at him. "Now answer my question, if you would not answer hers."

For a few moments Waak was silent and thought about it, all the time aware of the shame that spread through him like poison.

"Perhaps I am," he answered, "I am growing weak, master."

"Have you ever faced the Dark side?" asked Bakku.

"No, master," answered Waak straight away, puzzled with the question. "If we exclude the regular training sessions at the Temple, that is."

"A series of simulated exercises cannot account for the real experience, for looking the monster in the eye," said Bakku wisely, still prodding the cake. "True hero reveals himself in war; not in peace. I said it a thousand of times, that there was no point in using those exercises. But the Council never listened to me. And now you see the result. You faced it for the first time, seeing it in your friend; and you lost your principles and ideals. You have lost yourself, Waak."

"What do I need to do?" asked Waak in a whisper, staring at the rough surface of the table.

"Get back to the old principles, to what you really are," said Bakku firmly. "To the old Waak-Lin and his ideals. And you need to forget the fear, for it is poison."

Waak nodded without a word, wiping his face once again and reaching out for the cordial with a trembling hand.

"However," said Bakku in a quiet voice, with a hint of a smile, as a brown-robed figure appeared in the doorway, pausing by the table by the entrance to pick up a fresh ewer with water and exchanging a few friendly words with the Malaskians. "You will find that this particular lesson has already been mastered by your apprentice."

With tears in his eyes, Waak followed Larynthe with his glance as she walked over to them and sat down, still looking weary but refreshed. He did not say anything because he believed that it was for the best to say as little as possible, than to say something wrong once again, and Larynthe sensed the change in his attitude straight away. For the sake of her nerves and the trouble of her vain attempts of trying to reach Waak, she was grateful that old Bakku appeared out of the blue and brought him to his senses.


	10. Chapter 9 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm only using some of the Star Wars concepts for my story and nothing belongs to me.

This chapter follows Lady Tarralyanna of the Sith on her mission to the neighbouring country and describes her adventures.

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. IX – The Magician

Lady Tarralyanna felt as though she had walked into a dream and everything was new to her. The songs of the birds, the fragrances born by the wind, the colours of the landscape fleeting before her eyes... she did not attempt to hide her surprise and her companion could not stop staring at her. She resembled a child which was seeing the world for the very first time.

For the first time, she had been sent on a mission with the general accompanying her (or she accompanying him, as he thought). It was supposed to be a friendly visit to the land of Quentaa, but to Tarralyanna, it was so much more. Thus she rode on and on, taking in her surroundings and noting the flowers and trees she read about in books. The flora and fauna of Gotan did not have much to offer, but the further they rode due south, the more Tarralyanna felt as though she was riding through a garden.

The general was exhausted; his brow was dripping with sweat, his legs were trembling, and his heart was thumping erratically against his ribs. He simply could not understand how she could ride for hours and hours if she had not done that before, whereas he was practically born on horseback. But she is a Sith, he thought to himself angrily, reminding himself for the umpteenth time that she could hear his thoughts, too. He thought he heard a suppressed chuckle from up ahead. He frowned.

"My Lady," he choked, trailing behind her. "Should we not water the horses?"

Tarralyanna, of course, knew what was on his mind and knew that it was not his horse he wanted to water and feed, but himself. She smiled.

"In an hour," she said firmly, "Our horses are very good; and I desire to pass through this valley and reach the canyon before the sun of Cyrron gets unbearable."

He was startled with her familiarity of the land through which they were riding; she has never been here, and yet she knows every curve and every valley, their names and all, how far they stretch and how many miles they had till they reached what. This was beyond him; of course, there were maps, but no one could just memorise the whole thing and just have it dropping out of one's sleeve, could he? Which was exactly what Tarralyanna did, as soon as her Master revealed to her where she was going.

A memory suddenly flashed before her eyes; a vivid, painful memory of a ten-year old girl running in the snow. So angry she could hardly speak, she was running along the designated route around the Temple, her fists clenched under the enormous gloves she was wearing. She was cold, she was weary, and she hated her Master for doing this to her. Of course, she could stop and rest, but he would know. Seeing without eyes, he knew very well whether his students were following his orders and his punishments were severe. Slowly, she learned that it was for the best to obey him and just push her weariness aside.

Running so and barely putting one foot before the other, she could see her brother running at the opposite side and puffing audibly. At that time he was still Albinian, before the fatal accident occurred. Amidst ice and snow, in temperatures so low their blood felt frozen within their flesh, breathing in something so cold it could have barely been called air, they were forged into the Sith they would one day become, masters of their bodies they shaped according to their needs and their talents. There was a time Tarralyanna could no longer bear it and tried to kill herself, only to be saved by her Master.

And there was the first time she practised with her Saragon. Having crafted it herself, according to the instructions in the book her Master gave her, she showed her masterwork to her Master. He took it in his hands and had been examining it for what seemed like eternity. At long last, he put it away, smiled and nodded at her without a word. The following two months were a nightmare. She kept injuring herself with the Saragon's blades, which she even tried to file to make them blunter, but to have her Master send a dozen daggers chasing after her when he found out what she did. Of course, despite of Tarralyanna's ducking and running, most daggers managed to hit their target, resulting in even more injuries atop of the old ones, which experience taught her that matters could always be worse, and that insincerity, an attempt to minimise one's suffering, can only lead to more suffering when it comes to training. She would spin the Saragon high above her head for hours, passing it from one hand to the other with her eyes closed, until she completely mastered these movements, and could vary the rhythm in which she was doing it, never dropping it and never injuring herself. With the Saragon, it was all a matter of circular motion, and the ability to keep it in the air. Having succeeded at this, she was told by her Master she should start using the Force while doing it. Tarralyanna was livid. Why did he tell her that only now, when everything was over, when she obviously learned to do it the hard way? "Because, my young apprentice," he told her patiently, "even though you could have used the Dark side to help you in wielding the Saragon, you will find that every strong tree has a strong trunk, that is, a solid foundation. And now that you do, now that you have a strong, sturdy trunk, you can busy yourself with growing flowers."

She wondered whether the Jedi went through such ordeals; and the books and her Master, giving her scanty answers about the nature of the Jedi teachings, although he allowed them, revealed to her that they did not. Why? Why did she have to do this, then? When she was a child and when she asked such questions, her Master used to tell her: "Because that is my will, and you shall obey me". But as Tarralyanna grew up, he once told her: "Because we are Sith; we do not satisfy ourselves with dabbling. We do not sleep, we do not eat, until we have mastered what we have decided to learn. We are riders of twilight, dwellers of sacred halls of rage and wisdom; and there, leaving weakness and laziness before the door, we forge our swords and polish them for battle. We do not only study the Dark side; we seek to excel at all, abridge every difficulty, trample over every danger, slay all our enemies and always advance. We cannot allow ourselves to be ill, we cannot allow ourselves to rest or to while the hours away; for there is always work to be done, and victory and glory accept only the worthiest in their circles of fame."

When Tarralyanna and the general finally stopped, before the grand mouth of the canyon gaping before them, the general almost got convinced it was never going to happen. He was so sore and so numb he almost fell off his horse, watching the Sith jump down easily and unsaddle hers. She raised her hand and a couple of dry twigs zoomed through the air toward her. The general unsaddled his horse and let it go; he ceased tying it up because the Sith never did and her horse always came back to her. She would give a shrill, eerie whistle and her horse would come running back to her, brushing its head eagerly against her knees and bringing the general's horse along with it. And the general simply could not fathom how her horse got so attached to her in such a short time span.

Dried branches and logs zoomed through the air as the general drank water from a large skin and once the Sith deemed they had enough firewood, she pointed her finger at the neat pile and it set on fire. Then she sat down and bowed her head, closing her eyes. The general was too accustomed to her quiet ways and her desire not to speak to him unless she had something very important to discuss with him to be surprised with this, so that he seated himself away from her and began eating instead.

"Eleven people," she said suddenly, in a quiet, vibrant voice, what made him look up. "Bearing arms. Coming this way, through the canyon."

"My Lady?" asked the general, getting to his feet and making a few reluctant paces in her direction.

"I have sensed them," she said, now opening her sapphire eyes, which flashed. "They might be travellers, seeking to plunder every passenger. Ready your weapons, Korrugen, and stand at ready. I shall handle the matter, should they veer aside."

She always called him by his first name, as did the ruler of Gotan; this did not flatter the general, quite on the contrary. But he furrowed his brow, slowly withdrew his heavy double-edged sword and crossbow from his belt and sat a little away from her. The Sith was now chewing something red, some kind of fruit he did not recognise, slowly and diligently, as though it was a ceremony of some kind, her Saragon hanging from her belt along with her short sword and her bow which she wore slung across her chest, resting on her back. He reluctantly asked her about her weapons, and she handed him her Saragon to have a look at it. He did not exactly expect her to show it to him, but the fact remained that he was a general, after all, and that to be interested in different weaponry could only be considered as understandable for a man of his calling.

"Where did you get it, my Lady?" he asked her, stunned at the beauty and deadliness of the weapon, passing with his fingers over the numerous blades protruding from every steel sphere – they were kept so sharp that he cut himself.

"I have constructed it," she said in surprise, turning her head toward him. Did he think someone else would make her Saragon? "According to my Master's instructions, when I was twelve. It is a traditional Sith weapon, and the right one for me, he said. I have perfected it over the years, of course. Added many things to it. Along with that flat piece of Montaar's tooth – eases the grip on it."

"Montaar?" echoed the general, eyeing the jaded shiny black piece in the middle, "The tooth of the poisonous mountain snake? Is it not a legend?"

"You have never seen it, Korrugen?" she asked with a laugh. "It is a serpent, not a snake. I have caught it in the mountains, killed it, and brought its teeth back with me. They are hard to break and yet they make it easier for me to hold the Saragon; and thus a perfect addition to my weapon."

The chain connecting the spheres consisted out of many intertwined thin chains; and yet it was perfectly flexible, perfectly light, compared to the weight of the spheres. At the bottom of the black tooth in the middle there were various scribbles in a language Korrugen could not identify.

"Sith glyphs," she answered his thoughts; it took some getting used to, but she was doing this all of the time, answering his thoughts, not thinking whether he perhaps wanted to keep his thoughts to himself – Lady Tarralyanna proved to be most tactless about some things. That was her name written in Sith, but she did not tell him that.

"They are veering aside," she said quietly, looking at the ground before her calmly and the general placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword. He cast an anxious glance toward the trees to their left, expecting someone to emerge from the thicket and asking himself how she could be this calm. They were pretty good trackers, then, he thought, because he and the Sith have been riding along a standard path but veered to right, riding over the rocky parts of the wood where it was almost impossible to find tracks.

A group of people leading horses appeared there soon enough, and they halted at the sight that met their eyes. Tarralyanna's face was hidden under her hood and she was still staring at the ground. Korrugen got to his feet, lifting his chin.

"Just be calm, old man," said the foremost newcomer, pointing a large bow with an arrow that miraculously found its way there at him. "And give us all you have. There will be no need for any blood-spilling."

Korrugen cast an anxious glance at Tarralyanna, who was still sitting with her head bowed; he believed that she either could not understand the seriousness of the matter, or that she was thinking. Either way, he thought that he would best handle the matter and protect his Lord's protégé, as this was a serious situation, for these robbers and wanderers would shrink before nothing.

"Do you have any idea who is it that you are trying to rob here?" he asked in a loud voice. Lady Tarralyanna made a barely perceptible move.

"Not that I care," said the man, laughing. He was half-Droddian, half-Albinian. A terrible combination, thought the general. "But do tell me."

"I am the general of the army of Gotan," said Korrugen in a deep voice. "And this…"

"Save it," said Tarralyanna suddenly, jumping to her feet. "They will not listen."

"A lady!" exclaimed one, cracking a smile. "This changes matters!"

What else he wanted to say, he never got around saying, because Tarralyanna waved her hand; and he suddenly caught on fire and started screaming. Korrugen had his crossbow in his hands and was shooting at the nearest man he could aim, whereas Tarralyanna deflected a few arrows that fizzed toward her from the direction of the robbers, and directed them back at them with a point of her finger, at the same time taking off her own bow, and firing out five, or six arrows in a row, killing all of them in a span of a few seconds, before the general could blink twice. He lowered his hand with the crossbow in it as they toppled down, one over another, and turned to stare at her, who was looking very cross indeed. Her usually calm features were now thick with rage, and even though he was not Force-sensitive, Korrugen could clearly feel her anger oozing from her.

"What have I said?" she asked in a voice trembling with rage. "Can you not understand Albinian?"

"I… I thought you were…" he stammered out, as she made a forward pace, her sapphire eyes dangerously narrowed and flashing.

"I heard what is it that you thought," she hissed. "And it is just despicable. Does I need to demonstrate my power to make you obey me? Does not the word of the ruler of Gotan suffice?"

The general tried to calm himself down and try to explain, but the following moment, he found himself dangling upside down in the air. He let out a frightened yelp, frantically flapping with his arms and trying to move his legs, which seemed to be held by an invisible hand. Looking up, he found himself face to face with the angry Sith, who stood disturbingly close to him.

"I had to kill those people because they cannot walk around spreading stories of the Sith, do you understand?" she hissed out in his face, with him realising only now why she was so angry and thinking it would be about time to start begging for mercy. "And you were about to tell them who I was, were you not, you senseless CRETIN!"

"I were not, I swear, my Lady, I wanted to say…" he choked, trying to speak from such an awful position. To swallow was difficult by itself.

"I know what is it that you thought!" roared the Sith, waving her hand. The general found himself spinning quickly and he felt paralysed. He could have sworn he felt dread and horror enveloping him, something that had nothing to do with him playing a crazy merry-go-round. "I heard all of it!"

"My Lady, please, it will not happen again…!" he uttered as she turned him faster and faster, wondering whether the ruler of Gotan gave her the licence to punish and kill his servants, and concluding that he probably did. And just as he started to think he was going to faint, he suddenly dropped to the ground with a sickening thud.

He looked up to see her striding away, all fury, staring into one spot on the ground, her pretty face appearing inhuman and distorted with rage.

"You have sworn allegiance and given your life over to my Master," she said a little more quietly, as he scrambled to his knees, trembling. "And I am his student. Thus your life and your allegiance also belong to me. Do you understand that? Has my Master not explained that to you?"

"He… he has, my Lady," he whispered, trying to think back of such an occasion, but all he could think of was the sentence 'they will be treated as I am'. This, obviously, encompassed everything. The ruler of Gotan was infamous for being concise.

"Clear up that mess," she said, pointing a negligent hand toward the bodies. "Burn them until nothing but ash remains, and then scatter it over the river so that it gets washed away. I shall inform my Master of this."

"But how…?" he asked, falling silent as she turned her head toward him. Her rage distorted her pretty features and Korrugen could no longer recognise her.

"The Dark Lord sees and knows all," she whispered. "And I should be very much surprised if he did not see this, Korrugen."

The general distanced himself away and dragged the bodies, one by one, over to the fire and dropped them in. She could have done this with a wave of her hand, but she was sitting with her eyes closed, her hood over her head, shielding her against the relentless sun of Cyrron. As he did so, his glance fell upon the arrows that she fired at the robbers; they all struck their hearts, or where the Droddian's heart was, underneath his belly, that is, with lethal precision. She did not even look to see that they were Droddians, he thought, confusion and a strange wave of fear spreading through him. This child, this pretty woman, murdered ten of them within a few seconds; and as much as it was surprising to learn that she has never seen a dog in her life, that she was amazed with the most natural of things, like birds and beasts and valleys, nothing his Lord said about her had been exaggerated. She was a deadly killing machine and the only thought that appeared in his mind now, was – if she was his Lord's student, ergo he was her teacher, then where does this put him? What all has he been hiding from his Court? What sort of plans did he actually have?

oooooooooooooooooooooo

They got back on their horses shortly afterwards and the general had too much to ponder to notice what Lady Tarralyanna was doing. She was leading the way again, riding in a quick trot, her black cloak, which she would never take off, even in this warm weather, billowing behind her. Great, threatening stone cliffs rose around them, being perfect hideouts for ambush, but Tarralyanna's senses were as sharp as a razor.

The encounter with the robbers was not on Tarralyanna's mind. On the whole, she was quite satisfied with her performance. However, what was on her mind right now was the mental conversation she had with Tammutyen. She retold him everything that happened, unwilling to disturb her Master as she sensed he was busy, and asked Tammutyen to inform their Master of what happened. Tammutyen was very excited, she sensed; and he was very proud of her. He, a Sith of action who would have loved if something like that happened to him, never tried to hide his appetite for battle and bloodshed. As soon as she asked him to convey the message, his presence faded away and she knew he rushed to find him. Thus she was left content.

In the evening, at the thirteenth Luth hour, they finally arrived to the end of the Canyon and settled down there. The general's manners completely changed. He no longer needed to remind himself of what exactly she was, because he had seen it for himself and was beginning to see why the Jedi were so afraid of the Sith and were so eager to destroy them.

Lady Tarralyanna was quiet and punctual. Before dinner she would wrap herself in her cloak, sit down in the shade of a tree, close her eyes and remain unmovable for hours. Once she opened her eyes at long last, she would eat her dinner. And while the general thought it was just polite to wait for her, although he was starving and did not dare make a sound while she was sitting with her eyes closed, not wanting to disturb her and having no idea what she was doing, the Sith preferred to eat alone. After that she would turn in and sleep right until the third Cyrron hour, when she would wake up, always at the same time, always eating mysterious red fruit for breakfast along with a large cup of some odd brownish tea that smelled simply awful to the general.

She neither seemed to be angry with him nor was trying to act friendly. She was simply following her routine and enjoying the landscape. The incident with the robbers actually had a good effect on her. In fact, after she killed those half bloods there by the Aalyan river, she felt the Dark side was much stronger with her – her senses were as sharp as the blades of her Saragon, which she was diligently sharpening every now and then.

Upon the evening of the fourth day they arrived to the capital city of the land of Quentaa, where the guards at the entrance stopped them.

"We are ministers of the ruler of Gotan," said Tarralyanna haughtily, sitting bolt upright in her saddle, and pulling out something from her cloak with her gloved hand. The general cast a glance of interest at it. It was the seal of the ruler of Gotan and the symbol of his power as a King and a ruler, embroidered on a piece of black material. The guards were still sceptical, but they let them pass. As they rode through the busy streets of the town, they were followed about by soldiers on horseback, what did not seem to trouble the Sith. She was riding placidly with her hood drawn over her face, eager to get away from the sun which was getting stronger and was making Tarralyanna more and more uncomfortable. The general already thought about this many times. He could not remember a single instance he saw the two Sith outside without their hoods on.

"Hail, strangers," a tall Albinian greeted them, coming through the gate leading to the King's palace, stopping sheer before them with his hand resting on the hilt of his long sword that dangled a few inches above the ground. He had clear brown eyes and was wearing a look of interest on his lined face, his hair cut short. He was accompanied by a dozen guards, who looked apprehensive. It was clear that he was sent to greet them, when the word that two suspicious strangers bearing the seal of the ruler of Gotan spread. "What are you doing in these parts of Horukaan?

"We are the ministers of the ruler of Gotan," said Tarralyanna again, showing him her seal, at the sight of which he recoiled a little and looked up at her once again – he recognised it, if the witless guards at the front gate did not. "We are here to see your King."

"Come, my friends, welcome," said the Albinian, bowing low to her, and what the guards dispersed, noting that they were no longer needed. "We must apologise for the over-caution which might have been to your inconvenience. We have had too many intruders in the past three years, and too much disorder; and by the order of the King, special safety measures have been taken."

"We understand," said Tarralyanna, jumping down from her horse and handing the reins to an ostler, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Tarralyanna proceeded toward the palace which gleamed in sunlight without looking back at Korrugen, who managed to extract himself from the saddle only with greatest difficulty – they rode hard the whole day and he decided not to protest this time, and thus give the Sith a reason be angry with him. But his age and his hours spent in idling were catching up with him, he concluded with sadness.

"Ministers from the noble land of Gotan have come here many times," the tall Albinian went on, not daring to look at Tarralyanna, who was glancing over tall, majestic fountains that adorned the front yard – it was, after all, a land famous for its rivers, clear streams and beautiful lakes. "However, it is the first time I had the honour of welcoming you. Forgive me, I am Lonloy, Head of Protection and I am in charge of the safety of the Palace."

"Lady Tarralyanna," she said, looking quickly at him from under her hood as they now entered the Palace.

The vast, rectangular entrance hall had a transparent floor, showing a small pond underneath, which was teeming with frogs. Golden cups laced the walls, whence sweet water poured down into stone bowls, and then dropped down through the holes made in the transparent floor into the pond, filling the vast hall with trickling of water.

"I am the ruler of Gotan's assistant," she said, giving Lonloy a quick smile. "And, I am honoured to say, his personal trustee."

"Well, my Lady, I do hope you will find our humble land interesting," said Lonloy. He was treating her with every dose of respect she deserved, and she was very surprised and happy with this. She expected yet another outburst of despise and disbelief, if not for some other reason, then because she was female. Lonloy cleanly overlooked the fact she was wearing boots, along with the fact she had a bow and a sword hanging from her belt. This both surprised her, as it worried her. She quickly reached out with the Force, as quietly as she could, to probe around for his thoughts. His head was full of surprised exclamations at her appearance, but his demeanour was a result of his great trust in the King to be the judge of matters. So, she thought, we shall see now.

They were led through a wide corridor with rivers painted on either side, the ceiling painted light blue, hosting many chandeliers with crystals shaped as drops, and with candles swimming in water bowls. They proceeded to a vast hall, where they were kindly asked to wait, and were offered chairs. Tarralyanna was looking around herself, having completely forgotten about the general, who had been angrily trotting after her, and who now sat down beside her, fuming. Six small fountains lined the walls of the drop-shaped hall, made completely out of crystal, what offered a clear view of the water, which glittered as it trickled from the top of the fountains like a downpour of diamonds. A large blue spiral was painted on the floor, clearly representing a wave. It reached the small elevation, where a few chairs, including a throne, stood. Behind the throne hung the Banner of the Land of Quentaa – a large golden cup, held by three pairs of hands, indicating thus the three races that lived in the land, with water pouring out of the cup and over the extended hands. Above all stood a crown, indicating the king, and his name written in the ancient Quentaa alphabet, which resembled a confusion of curly lines. Underneath the cup there were similar symbols, probably standing for the name of the Kingdom of Quentaa written in the same archaic alphabet. Ancient Sith is so much different, Tarralyanna thought. Its alphabet (glyphs, rather than letters), was precise and it was always clear which letter was which, even from afar.

The King swept in at last, accompanied by his Vizier and his Chancellor, who walked behind him with their hands crossed, casting interested glances at the newcomers. Korrugen got to his knee, whereas Tarralyanna merely bowed. She knelt only before her Master and that was that. The King of Quentaa was an Albinian in his fifties, who, however, did not look like it. He smiled at the two of them as soon as he entered, spreading his arms. He was wearing a light blue robe, and a blue cape that swirled behind him as he walked. All of what they wore, she thought, resembled the movements of water, and she wondered how they made such light materials that seemed to defy the laws of gravity. They were almost like spider webs – and yet they seemed perfectly warm for that time of the year and were not transparent, contrary to what one might think.

"Welcome, my friends!" he said jovially, looking down at Korrugen, at whom he nodded, his smile deepening, as he must have met him on a dozen of occasions. His glance paused on Tarralyanna. She lifted her head and approached the throne, handing him a thin scroll and the seal of her Master without a word. The King sat down on his throne, waving an idle hand to the Chancellor and Vizier, propping himself against his knee and began to read. His countenance grew more serious with every word he read, and after he finished, he lifted his eyebrows and looked at Tarralyanna with deep interest. His warm hazel eyes surveyed the haughty figure of the Sith, at what he said, not tearing his glance off her:

"Leave us."

The Vizier and Chancellor seemed very reluctant to do so, but the King nodded sharply at them, after what they bowed deeply and left.

"Sit down, Lady Tarralyanna. And you, general Korrugen," said the King quietly, still watching her. She drew down her hood, exposing her face, and sat down, the very picture of the Sith knight she was, dressed from head to foot in black, her trousers tucked in her boots, her Saragon protruding from underneath her cloak.

"The ruler of the land of Gotan has always been my good friend, and, I am not ashamed to admit, despite of my age, my good advisor," said the King serenely, smiling at her. "And I am not very surprised to see someone like you by his side. He always knew how to draw the powerful and had no fear before anything. But to see the legend come to life before my very eyes is very… interesting, to put it mildly."

Korrugen, who had no idea she carried a message from the King of Gotan, a personal message, this concluded that the scroll revealed her identity, however, not his Lord's identity.

"So… the legends are true," almost whispered the King, now shamelessly drinking in the Sith's peculiar appearance, and then shifting on his throne, with a hint of apprehension passing over his features. "The Sith have returned to power."

Tarralyanna graced him with a quick smile.

"I must confess, you are not exactly what I expected," said the King with a nervous laugh.

"I imagine I am not," said Tarralyanna with a laugh of her own.

"Do you know what is it that the ruler of Gotan desired to say with 'council', Lady Tarralyanna?" asked the King, "What are his intentions?"

"I daresay he wishes to speak to all his friends, and present us to you. Me and my brother," said Tarralyanna with a mysterious smile that intrigued the King. At the mention of a brother, he lifted his enormous, bushy eyebrows. "Lord Tammutyen. He remained at Gotan, but he is also a Sith knight."

"Really?" asked the King, now with a definite note of nervousness in his voice which he tried to cover up with another smile. "There are… two of you? The world has not seen so many Sith at once in centuries, I believe."

Tarralyanna laughed to his joke, whereas the King ran his hand through his wild hair, thoughtful for a moment and trying not to look apprehensive. Two Sith! He did not want to ask about the ruler of Gotan's plans anymore; he only desired to be left alone so that he could process this disturbing piece of information.

"Naturally, I shall depart for Gotan as soon as possible," he went on, probably perceiving the tense atmosphere which was in fact Lady Tarralyannaßs doing, as she was probing for his thoughts. "And until I am ready, you are very welcome to stay in my Palace. You may address Lonloy for anything you might need. I must instruct my Steward in all matters of importance… Terrible times, Lady Tarralyanna, terrible times indeed."

The King shook his head sadly, his expression now quite serious.

"So much trouble, even here, in the capital town of Quentaa… not to mention our borders… so many wanderers, plunderers and highwaymen…"

"The Lord's orders were to assist you in any way as well," said Tarralyanna in a loud, ringing voice, straightening up. The King was now on his feet and was slowly and thoughtfully descending the stairs leading up to the throne. Her words, however, made him pause and look at her. "I believe he would want me to help you to at least sweep the streets of your capital town."

He was staring at her as though he was uncertain he was hearing well. Remembering the legends of the Sith, he was very reluctant to allow this. As far as the King knew, they were notorious for their rage, killing sprees and bloodbaths; but the high crime rate in his country rang as a warning bell in his head, and he slowly nodded. The King was not the kind of person who would try to evaluate Tarralyanna and try to judge just how powerful she was; she was a Sith and this was all he needed to know. Neither her beauty, nor her fragile figure could make him question her identity.

"For that, Lady Tarralyanna, I would be more than grateful," he said quietly. "I shall inform Lonloy that you shall be leading his patrols. He shall inform you about the laws in my country."

The King was obviously very careful not to say anything definite, but Tarralyanna knew he wanted to avoid a bloodbath, and yet he did not want to decline her help, as the ruler of Gotan was his advisor and a good friend. The other reason was because he did not want to decline her help because he believed that might offend her. And he did not want to have an angry and an offended Sith on his hands. Tarralyanna gave a wide, snide smile.

"Do not worry, King of Quentaa," she said softly. "I shall merely catch the criminals; what happens to them is none of my concern. The ruler of Gotan has his laws, as you have yours."

"Yes, yes, quite," said the king quickly, palpably relieved. He flashed a smile at her. "I am very much in your debt, Lady Tarralyanna."

He bade them goodbye and left. Shortly afterwards, before Korrugen had the chance to decide whether he should speak to Tarralyanna or not, Lonloy appeared, looking deeply worried and on alert. His smiling eyes were now filled with terror, as the King, obviously, had to tell him everything.

"My Lady," he said nervously, bowing to her. "The King informed me of your wish to help with the patrols. How do you desire to proceed?"

Tarralyanna had to laugh at his stiffness and this only served to make Lonloy more apprehensive. Did he say something wrong, he wondered?

"Can you pick a dozen of your best men by tomorrow, Lonloy?" she asked, tying up her cloak under her chin and hitching away her sword, still looking very amused.

"But of course, my Lady," he replied, not looking at her but at his feet. "And more, if there is need."

"A dozen shall suffice," she said, smiling at him with that bewitching, mysterious smile which confused him. "Tomorrow, at the first Luth hour, wait for me in front of my chambers. We shall go hunting then."

"Very well, my Lady," he said, bowing again to her and now following her out of the hall. Hunting? "What is it that I should tell them? What should they be ready for?"

"For anything at all, of course," she said vaguely. "Until then, the general and I shall rest. We had a long and eventful journey."

"Of course, of course," said Lonloy, thinking that whoever tried to attack her is probably at the bottom of the Aalyan river, and he was of course right. "What are your requirements?"

"I require peace and quiet, and warmth," she said seriously. "Those are all my requirements."

"They shall be met, my Lady," said Lonloy.

Tarralyanna could indeed find no fault in her chambers. There were thick, dark curtains put over the large windows for her convenience, and when she first entered, she felt as though she was back home, in Gotan, in her own chambers. There was a candle here and there and welcoming warmth was coming from the fireplace in the bedroom. Content, she bade Lonloy goodnight, planning a meditation beside the fireplace, where she could swim in the surges of the Dark side as long as she desired.

oooooooooooooooo

The following day, having woken rested and requested breakfast from a Malaskian woman who was not a slave, as it was the case in Gotan, but was paid for her service, she spent some time practising with her Saragon in the middle, largest room, after what she had her lunch and met Lonloy, who was nervously waiting outside her quarters. 'I take you for a very intelligent and reasonable man,' rang the voice of his King in his head, who was looking weary and old all of a sudden, 'to know that it is not wise to displease a Sith, nor it is advisable to treat her with anything but respect. Keep your distance and act wisely. I can only speculate about the ruler of Gotan's intentions, but if it involves two Sith… well, you can devise the rest, I am certain.'

Lady Tarralyanna emerged from her quarters looking rested and eager. She was carrying her sword again, but she had disposed of her bow in her quarters. However, as she came out, adjusting her belt, Lonloy could clearly see another weapon, a curious one, hanging form her belt and clanking as she walked. Her boots were now clean, along with her thick, black cloak. Unbearable heat was coming from her chambers, which he sensed before she closed the door behind her. So the part of the legend which said that the Sith lived in Gnath, the volcano land, was quite true, he concluded.

"My men are waiting outside, my Lady," he said after he bowed to her.

"And what is it that you have told them?" she asked.

"Nothing definite, merely announced a guest in a patrol," he answered in trepidation, as she asked exactly the question he had been dreading. "I did not know what to tell them, and thought it was for the best to leave that part to you, my Lady."

"That is very wise, Lonloy," she said with a smile at him. He was startled; she was young and beautiful and nothing like the terrible Sith he heard about. Is it really possible that she was a Sith? Perhaps she was just a Jedi who recently turned to the Dark side, he thought. There had been such cases throughout the history, but the Jedi Order hushed them up as soon as possible. The people of Horukaan could only gossip and guess.

She was amusing herself with probing around for his thoughts while she was putting her gloves on, what he observed with the corner of his eye. It was a marvellous, cloudless day, with the vault of violet beaming at them, a yellowish glow following the sun of Luth, and Lonloy would have liked very much to be able to dispose of his cloak in such an agreeable weather; however, he did not think it would be appropriate to swagger around in a shirt in front of the Sith. Maybe she would feel offended and think he was taking this patrol seriously?

"Very well," she said authoritatively, standing before the dozen people who were staring at her apprehensively, not knowing what to think, fiddling with her gloves, her face concealed under her hood. "This is what we are going to do." She was speaking the commonly known Albinian language most of people understood, but which varied in dialects from country to country. "You are going to walk behind us, and stand at ready. The Head of Guard is going to issue orders to you. Do you understand?"

Everyone nodded, still confused.

Lonloy nodded at them sharply, hoping against hope that they would not attempt something foolish and that they would obey, as he warned them beforehand; he merely told them that there would be a guest leading a patrol, and that this was an explicit order of the King and his will, declining to answer any questions about this mysterious person. Thus the little procession departed from the Palace, Lonloy walking behind Tarralyanna, who was glancing around herself with interest.

"Walk beside me, Lonloy," she said sharply after a few paces. "I need your guidance and council. What is that in the distance?"

She was pointing at a low structure resembling a beehive, built in white river stone.

"That is the Temple of Ortemis," he said slowly, "She…"

"Oh, I know of her," she said eagerly. Indeed, studying mythology and pagan worship was one of her great interests, and she literally devoured all books on the subject. "Born out of the foam amassed at the foot of waterfalls of Aalyan river, down by the sacred Stones. A beautiful legend."

Lonloy lifted his eyebrows, wondering at her knowledge. But she did not seem to notice his surprise at all, merely proceeding onward and casting one last glance at the Temple before it disappeared from view. This was interesting, she thought happily. She was searching through the Force, listening, stretching her ears and sight through the streets ahead of her, waiting to hear or see something one might consider as a 'criminal act'.

"Is selling water diamonds legal?" she asked all of a sudden, after a long period of silence, during which it almost seemed as though she was merely sightseeing. Lonloy did not notice she was walking with her eyes closed. Her weapons clanked as she walked.

"No," he answered quickly. "Water diamonds are dug out by the monks, down by the sacred Stones, and they would make them a gift to the rare ones whom they found worthy. But…"

"Well, that man over there is trying to sell a few to the odd-looking woman in yellow," she said. She trusted his discretion that he would not start turning his head in all directions.

"Which man?" asked Lonloy, barely able to suppress his surprise, but not looking anywhere in particular. He was very careful and very wise; after all, he spent many years in service to the King.

"The tall man wearing a blue striped cape, down there, by the fountain with Ortemis' statue on top," she said, not looking at him. The said statue was at least seven hundred feet away, and Lonloy could not possibly see how she knew this.

"Right," he said curtly, waving toward one of his men, whispering something in his ear, at what he and his colleague departed down the street, appearing to be nothing more but passers-by, as Lonloy instructed them not to wear their uniforms. They caught the man easily, who was kicking about and protesting but was nevertheless brought before Lonloy and Tarralyanna. Lonloy cast a wary glance at her, who stood bolt upright and was casting interested glances around her, at the shops and at the passing people, all of whom were looking back at her but quickly looking away as soon as they noticed she was accompanied by the Head of Guard who was very well known among the people. They could not see her face, but they could sense there was something strange and intimidating about her.

"What is the meaning of this?" the man screamed. Then his glance met Lonloy's, who coolly looked back and approached him. Tarralyanna followed him eagerly.

"I have done nothing wrong!" persisted the man.

"No?" asked Lonloy sharply, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. "Have you not been selling water diamonds to someone?"

The man's face went white and he swallowed; obviously there was some truth in this, thought Lonloy, his heart leaping with joy, as he could clearly see nervousness and fear on the man's face.

"Let us have them."

His men searched him, turned all of his pockets inside out, rummaged through his clothes and belt, but found nothing. They looked desperately at their commander, who now felt as though he swallowed an ice block. His reputation… gone? Replaced by the reputation of a paranoid crime-obsessed madman?

"They are in his left boot," whispered Lady Tarralyanna in his ear. There was sweetness in her breath, he noted, and for a moment he stood rooted to the spot, shocked with the fact he felt her breath on his skin; however, he regained control of himself quickly and bent forward, tugging at the man's boot. From the boot fell out a small linen bag and he quickly shook out its contents on his palm, to set his eyes on a dozen water diamonds, the sunlight of Luth reverberating from their rough, unpolished surfaces.

"Hold him firmly," said Lonloy gleefully to his men, in an excited; they tripled the grip on the man's forearms, staring at the diamonds with their mouths half-open.

"Ah," said Tarralyanna, leaning over his shoulder and smiling. They were of the same height, he noted in astonishment. "They are beautiful."

Without an invite, she picked one up, turning it over and looking at it from under her hood. They seemed almost magical to her, and she felt the diamond vibrate in her hand slightly, responding to her power. She knew there were substances that were Force-responsive, but the water diamonds were not on the list. Perhaps the ancient Sith did not know of them?

"You three," said Lonloy commandingly. "Take him to the prison. The rest of you, follow us."

Tarralyanna wheeled about, still surveying the crystal fondly. Lonloy was about to ask her whether she desired to keep it, before she lowered it back into his hand with her gloved one, avoiding his touch.

"Beautiful things," she said, Lonloy's people now muttering behind their backs and discussing what just happened. "I like your country, Head of Guard."

Lonloy smiled uncertainly, deciding that he would not ask her how she knew the man was smuggling water diamonds and simply followed her in her crusade through the streets of the capital. She zigzagged, made detours, paused, looking at statues and magnificent buildings, and Lonloy and his men followed her about like a battalion of faithful dogs.

"Those three are discussing how they killed an old man called Garoffee for a handful of Aalyan silver," she said, sitting on a bench in the shade and drinking water, Lonloy sitting beside her at her request.

"That woman over there, she sold her three sons to a Droddian slave trader," she said half an hour later, caressing the leaves of a stout tree in the town's gardens, and seemingly not paying attention to what was going on around her.

"That man over there, wearing white trousers – he is a foreign beast trader, and he is currently offering those two women exotic blue-furred rabbits," she said, feeding an animal that resembled a sea cucumber in the park, leaning over a pond. It had a small mouth and a pair of black eyes that were blinking at the Sith with interest, sensing her power, thus swimming over to her as soon as she appeared, whistling to it. She thought that the creature was simply fascinating.

So it went on and on. And each time, though the person denied, Tarralyanna could either find proof, or could find a witness that would suddenly start spitting out the truth, after Tarralyanna waved an inconspicuous hand at them. It was like Caelian magic.

"Well," she said with a deep sigh, as the sun of Luth began to descend lower. "My senses are weary. I should like to go back to the Palace now. Is there an enclosed space within the Palace, where I could practise with my weapons and be left alone? Where no one could see me?"

"Of course," he answered blankly, not tearing his glance off her. "I shall… forbid anyone to approach the place. Choose one that you feel is appropriate for your needs, my Lady."

"Excellent," she said, smiling, as though the prospect of training excited her. "Let us return, then."

ooooooooooooooo

Lonloy came back to the King at the thirtieth Luth hour with a blank look on his face. He could not make heads or tails of this whole day, and what just happened. He did not know there were so many criminals, right under his nose; and she… she just pointed them out to him, the whole time appearing to be sightseeing and making detours to strange places, like the town's public thermae or the park.

"Well?" demanded the King of him as soon as he swept in, barely standing. "Did you catch anyone?"

"Anyone?" whispered Lonloy absently, staring at one point into space, faces and voices rushing through his weary mind, still seeing those bewitching sapphire eyes. "My Lord, we have no more place in the prison to spare."

"What?" whispered the King, not believing his ears.

"Aye, my Lord," answered Lonloy, now turning to look at him pleadingly, as though begging for an explanation and throwing himself into a chair without an invitation, unable to stand any longer. "She… just pointed out people to us, and they were… criminals. Stolen goods, murder, conspiracy, illegal trade… My Lord, the list never ends! And such horrible things they have done, such dangerous things, illegal trades of the worst imaginable kind!"

"How… how did she know?" asked the King, his eyes wide. Excitement and horror mixed within him like poison.

"I have no idea," answered Lonloy, now realizing that the King was as clueless as he was, shrugging his shoulders. "She did not even look at them. She just spilled out facts before me, describing people to the last detail, giving me fragments of their conversations, names of stolen goods, what they have done and where they were hiding the artefacts… it was like magic."

"Magic?" echoed the King in a hollow voice. "Such a thing exists only in Lateen, and I gravely doubt I have heard of a Caelian who could perform such a trick."

"She is truly a Sith, then, my Lord?" asked Lonloy desperately, trying to ascertain himself of it, to believe that alien-looking woman was indeed the very thing the whole world feared. Lonloy was sharp and wise, but he had little education, and legends dating from the Second Age were definitely something most people avoided, as they would rather be in search for 'the cheerful and inspiring', than dig through dark times of the Great War.

"'I am sending my personal trustee and my right hand to you,'" the King read from the scroll Tarralyanna gave to him the day before, as though not certain he understood the matter well himself, "'to accompany you back to my territory in these dangerous times. She shall guard you and shield you better than any of your generals. She is a Sith knight, and she has been trained very well. I shall ask you, my friend, to keep this a secret, and to share it only with your greatest trustees. We cannot afford the Jedi Order to hear of her, although I daresay it shall be unavoidable in the future.'"

ooooooooooooooooooo

At the same time Lady Tarralyanna was meditating in her quarters, a blissful smile frozen on her pale face, sitting wrapped in linen amidst blazing torches and enjoying the warmth and darkness. Her jewel rested on her forehead, to ease her recovery from the strenuous day, happily pulsing there. However, as she swam in the powerful surges of the Dark side, she heard her Master's voice.

"Master!" she gasped, reaching out to him at once through the Force.

"I have seen your work, my Apprentice," she heard his mental voice. "You have done very well indeed. But you have done enough."

"I understand, my Master," she answered promptly. "I shall not help anymore."

"Request the present you want," he continued – she felt she could almost feel his hand hovering over her head. "I allow it."

She still remembered the Force exercise she was doing every day as a child. She had to describe what each and every Malaskian in the Temple was wearing, what he was doing and thinking. The exercise was hard, but her Master was very persistent; he inspected her every answer by reaching out with the Force himself, and little Tarralyanna, of fourteen Horukaan years, was doing this while sitting beside Tammutyen, who was equally weary and close to bursting into angry tears. As it were, this exercise was not as hard for her as it was for him. He still bore the scars he earned when his Master burned his hand as he was trying to make things up, unable to strain his senses anymore. This exercise was quite different than the others, Tammutyen concluded; for the more annoyed he got, the more he was losing his concentration, and it was very hard to retrieve it. He preferred physical training.

"Execute my will, my Apprentice," the Dark Lord went on, in a more serious tone. "Work hard. May the mighty Darkness be with you."


	11. Chapter 10 - Part One

Disclaimer: See chapter 9 :)

Here follows the first part of what used to be a single chapter, describing the adventures of Lord Tammutyen, who rides with the Chancellor to a neighbouring country. I figured that 15 000 words would be too much for a single chapter so I split it in two parts.

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooooo CAP. X – Through Ice and Snow

Two travellers rode through the ice-capped mountain ranges of Gotan, riding around dangerous gorges and wading through half-frozen rivers. The first figure, riding hunched and trying to protects its face from the bone-chilling wind was the of Chancellor of Gotan, a man so wrapped in scarves and dressed in thick fur that only his nose was showing. The wind and snow were sweeping the rock, the glacier and the gorge between two ranges shrouded in white mercilessly. The Chancellor's horse was stumbling every now and then, foam on its chest turning into ice as soon as he paused a little. The second figure was the broad-shouldered, upright-sitting figure of the Sith knight, whose stout black stallion plunged on without a sign of weariness – it was feeling and cherishing the power that rode on its back, and its nostrils were spread wide as an answer to it, its eyes flashing and it trotted across the frozen ground.

They have chosen this difficult path, although they could have easily avoided the mountains by riding around the land of Gotan, thus arriving at their destination without so much trouble. However, Lord Tammutyen has chosen this path, cutting sheer across that dangerous terrain and thus saving time, even at their poor pace they were advancing in, because it looked like a challenge to him; because he was eager to explore Gotan a little, having gotten a mission himself. The Chancellor had no other choice but to respect his will, and was thus riding ahead of him, checking the roughly drawn map which was made for him by an experienced Malaskian hunter who often ventured into the mountains. I could have gotten it worse, thought the Chancellor, looking aside and upward, his glance following the sharp outlines of the Gotan's highest and steepest mountain, rising above their heads and overlooking them like a high judge. A mortal has never reached its peak, nor did anyone know how high it actually was, though there have been rumours of a Caelian once doing it; but these were only legends, the Chancellor thought. He could not see the end of it, although they were now on the highest plateau before the mountain rose steeply upwards, veiled in mist and snow, disappearing in the darkness that enveloped them in this weather. There was no sign of Cyrron, although it was still a Cyrron hour, he reckoned, checking his compass. Even the Gods have said farewell to this place. They were just environing the southern side of the monstrous mountain, and were now moving away from it, heading more to the west.

Endless paths of snow, with only occasional trace of a living being that passed there, lay before them, spreading toward the northwest, snaking through the cliffs, around gorges and through icy canyons; only three more days, thought the Chancellor, wrapping himself better in his furry coat. And they would see the lands of Gangar. Gangar was a land bordering with Gotan, and the mountain of Strem-Nah (which was an old Gotan name for sky-scraper, the one they just left behind them, and good riddance, thought the Chancellor with a shudder, thinking back of the terrible icy giant that overlooked them from the darkness) was the last of the mountains in Gotan, before the mountainous terrain melted away into hills covered with dry, snow-covered grass; hills turned into barren land, and the barren land turned into rocky, dry land of Gangar, rich with mines and geysers, which exploded over the red soil, giving it a chance to sprout a plant every now and then. Stout, leathery plants grew across some parts of the lands of Gangar, highly resistible to cold and yet able to withstand the downpour of steaming water.

The residents of the hill-land of Gangar were Droddians. However, the ruler of Gotan has long formed first an alliance, and then closed friendship with their Chief. The Droddians living in Gangar could not live of hunting, but they grew plants beside each of such geysers, bred animals and enjoyed bloody games and sports that helped them give their violent nature an expression, and yet live with each other, so that they would not end up fighting among themselves. This, by the order of the insightful Chief Growthak, who desired to keep the Droddians of Gangar together, living normal lives, unlike the Droddians of the Third Continent, under King Dankaar, who were killing each other for the sake of entertainment. In Gangar official tournaments and competitions were organsied, offering the people the chance both to watch, as to participate. He wanted to keep his race alive and together, and had thus devised these games for his people, but at the same time established harsh laws, with death penalties for almost every crime. The Droddians of Gangar lived in prosperity and were never hungry, or molested, for the Chief's army would smother any bit of resistance that appeared within the land itself, and slaughtered any intruders who might have dared to try to break into his domain. His title was 'chief', and this was how he was called among his people; but he was more like an emperor, a dictator who lived in the stone fortress beneath the slopes of the last ice-covered mountains of Gotan, which were showing in the distance behind its walls, the last stop before the kingdom of snow and ice.

Thus the hardest task for the two riders was to cross Gotan, and to make their way through the mountain ranges, to descend from those great heights. Their path was leading forward, endlessly, it seemed, snaking through the falling rock and deep snow. Tammutyen conjured up a strong fire every time they stopped for a camp, for he needed it more than the Chancellor did, and for the first time he saw signs of suffering on the intimidating Sith knight. Paler than ever, a bluish tinge showing under his skin, he would sit beside the flames, so close that if he got an inch closer his hair would catch on fire, rubbing his gloved hands. He miraculously caught a bird a few days ago, which they roasted and slowly ate as they went; and although the Chancellor was not very hungry, still having some food of his own, the Sith knight seemed to starve most of the time. The bird was not enough for him, obviously, and he mostly ate some hideous food he was carrying in jars and small tin boxes. Most of the time, when they could ride one behind the other in a line, he rode with his head bowed, his hood drawn over his face, smoking a pipe and letting out thick clouds of smoke that melted with the sound of the wind.

The weather did not seem to agree with him, and his now positively bluish face was contorted in an ugly expression of determination and rage, as he kept himself going with the heat of the Dark side. The Chancellor was not certain, but he thought he felt waves of rage and coldness that had nothing to do with the terrible weather sweep over him every now and then, and was tirelessly brooding over Mar-Taat-Moor's insights of the ways of the Sith. He assumed this was the Sith's doing, and he wished he would not do that, but it did not seem like he cared. The Chancellor woke up one morning to find him standing in the middle of a circle of fire, which he obviously conjured, with his hands crossed on his back, staring down upon the frozen lake they just environed. There were times he could almost feel sorry for the Sith.

Upon the last day, the thin line of red showing in the distance, the air now becoming positively easier to breathe, the wind and snow abating a little, the Chancellor sat down to cook lunch for them, and had just come back to the horses to look for the Sith knight, only to find him standing without his cloak on, a long double sided sword in his gloved hands, obviously the weapon that had been occupying the mysterious thin scabbard that he wore on his back. He gaped at him. The Sith wheeled around and spun the sword in his one hand as though it was a toy; he ducked an imaginary opponent, sliding across the snow and then jumped up from such an impossible position, turning in the air twice times and landing on his feet without mistake, stabbing the air before him with such fierceness the Chancellor winced. He paused, lowering the sword and turning his head toward the Chancellor. He swallowed. The Sith's face was contorted in rage, his noble features now made ugly and horrible; the Chancellor made a pace backward unawares, the little colour he had draining form his cheeks.

"Lunch, I know, thank you," hissed out the Sith, again spinning his sword in his hand so fast it was a blur. The Chancellor bowed deeply to him and practically ran back to the fire. He decided never to call him to lunch again, because he obviously knew when it was ready and risk disturbing the Sith in his exercise. Venting his anger at himself and at his weakness for letting the weather get to him and make his body weak, Lord Tammutyen was practising with his Ptah for two more hours, until sweat began to pour down his brow and he rendered himself satisfied with his practice. Then he appeared by the fire, sat down opposite the fearful Chancellor without a word, and began devouring everything in sight until there was nothing left anymore. The Chancellor managed to make a good stew out of a few reptiles the Sith caught in the lake, killing them without the use of the Force or a weapon, with his bare hands only. The Chancellor considered helping him as the Sith spotted the animals and made a few paces toward the lake, and was already pulling out his bow from his bag, at what he saw him crack the ice and dive in, emerging out with the reptile's head under his enormous arm, strangling it. If he does not have any Droddian blood in him, I will eat my fur coat, thought the Chancellor, watching him pull the reptile by the tail out of the lake, dripping with icy water, looking exhausted but very pleased with himself, and then returning for more. Thus Tammutyen ate the whole animal by himself, presuming that the Chancellor had already eaten, and was eyeing the cauldron hungrily for more.

"I apologise, my Lord," said the Chancellor, not believing his eyes. "I could not fit the remaining flesh into the cauldron." The truth was that he did not think anyone could eat that much, and had thus cut and put aside the rest of the meat, which was now occupying a large linen bag, covered with freshly fallen snow. "Do you—do you want me to make some more?"

"No," growled the Sith, wiping his mouth. "I am fine."

Thoughtful and gloomy, far from having his stomach full, he mounted his horse and thrust his pipe into his mouth. The Chancellor led the way; until the snow began to disappear from under their feet, the Sith was riding without a word behind him, but now he speeded up and caught up with him, to pull his horse aback at the hill overlooking the valley beneath them, his dark eyes surveying the red soil and narrowing as they followed the ascent of white water high into the air in the distance.

Gangar – or the 'land of blood' in archaic Droddian.

"You leave the talking to me," said the Sith quietly, smoke coming out on his nostrils, making him appear as though he was an odd dragon; after a few thoughtful moments, he upturned his pipe and tapped the dottle out of the end of it.

"Yes, my Lord," answered the Chancellor promptly, relieved, as a matter of fact. He tried to decide what he would say in front of the Droddian Chief, but was very much grateful for the Sith taking over. After all, a Droddian could talk to a Droddian, he thought, casting an offhand glance in the direction of the Sith knight's formidable figure. But his skin… he was not just paler than any Albinian. His paleness was… well, unnatural, thought the Chancellor.

The Sith spurred his horse onward, and his stallion plunged down the slope readily, his hooves digging deep into the red soil. The fortress was built in Droddian style – quadratic and very simple. Its walls were red as the Gangarian soil, and the windows were small holes drilled in stone – Droddian people never cared about luxury and preferred to have things simple and warrior-alike (beast-alike, many Albinians thought). Well, thought the Chancellor, speeding behind Tammutyen, they will meet their match today. Above the main gate flogged the flag of Gangar, a simplified picture of a rearing bear-like creature, native to Gangar, showing also the mountains of Gotan in the background, along with a geyser to the bear's left side. Underneath the bear was the symbol of the Droddian race, the three-leaved red flower, or what was supposed to be one, with one petal towering over the other two, which were turned downwards. Long red walls stretched between the four towers of the large fortress, with embrasures dotting their length, a narrow path built atop of each wall so that the soldiers could walk up and down.

Four Droddians stood before the entrance, dressed in hide and armed to teeth, staring at the newcomers suspiciously and baring their teeth at each other – it was just the way they spoke, the Chancellor reminded himself. Their dark skin matched the red soil, he thought, nervously trotting behind the Sith knight, whose black cloak was falling over the shiny coat of his stallion.

"Hail, warriors," yelled Tammutyen in his deep voice, lifting his left hand in the air as though saluting them, speaking in Albinian. "We come from the Kingdom of Gotan, and we wish to see the powerful Chief Growthak."

They stared at him, as though not understanding a word, though not with animosity, the Chancellor noted with surprise, as one might have expected from Droddians, who were always only too ready to jump at each others' throats, let along someone else's. Tammutyen drew out a moist piece of cloth from the depths of his dirty clothes, and gave it a wave, unrolling it before their noses so that all of them could see. It bore the seal of the ruler of Gotan and the banner of Gotan, embroidered underneath.

"Ah!" grunted one, pointing, rolling out a long sentence in harsh Droddian language and then suddenly bowing to Tammutyen. He waved a fierce hand, as though beckoning him and turned toward the tall gate. He looked up, folding his hands around his mouth and roared a few words so loudly that the Chancellor jumped in his saddle at the sound. The Droddian turned to Tammutyen, grinning at him with his yellow teeth, apparently trying to act friendly with the Sith knight. His figure and his weapons seemed to impress him, it dawned on the Chancellor, and their eyes rested on him rather than on the tall, thin figure of the Chancellor. The savage apparently thought that Tammutyen had Droddian blood in him, and they were not far away from the truth, thought the Chancellor, following suit, lest they thought he was not with the Sith and leave him outside, or something worse. The monumental wooden gate creaked as it was opened and the Droddian led the two inside, turning back every now and then to look at Lord Tammutyen with admiration. The Sith knight puffed up his chest, and was showing his magnificent physique in its best light; the Droddians, as they passed, were esteeming his weapons and pointing at his Ptah, trying to figure out what this was. Either way, they figured, this was some sort of a powerful warrior, and he came to see their Chief. They were very curious and far off from trying to be unfriendly, as the Chancellor feared they might.

Surprised and anxious, he was riding right behind the Sith knight, who however, did not turn once to ascertain the Chancellor was still there. They were led through the red streets of the fortress, teeming with soldiers who were milling out of every nook and cranny, those round dwelling-places made out of red clay, to take a look at the newcomers and this warrior who arrived. At last they arrived before a large, low building with many stairs leading up to it, giving it the appearance of a temple. A few soldiers stood on guard before it, carrying long spears in their muscular arms. They stiffened up at the sight of them and saluted to the Droddian who was leading the pair, to what he replied with a growl and a careless wave of his hand. They left their horses and followed him inside, Lord Tammutyen not taking off his weapons and walking with a swagger. Not that usually did not swagger, thought the Chancellor, watching him and trying to keep up. Red pillars lined up to either side as they walked down the corridor, crude torches affixed to them and painting the ceiling even redder than it already was. Pieces of cloth with hunting themes, animal heads and animal skins hung everywhere, being a legacy of their race and symbols of their passions. Iron stands with fires burning atop of them reminded Tammutyen of his home. The Sith had something in common with the Droddians, he remembered his sister saying, after she read three volumes on the history of the Droddian race and their culture. He smiled under the hood, walking onward.

The narrow corridor spread into a vast hall, with a vaulted ceiling whence shallow bowls with fire burning within them hung, suspended on thick, ominous-looking chains, at the sight of which the Chancellor winced. The Droddian leading them was wearing something that was probably a bear skin wrapped around his muscular body, a mark of his status and a scarlet sash draped across his chest with Droddian inscriptions on it. His curly black hair was decorated with a few feathers of birds of prey, along with something white that was unmistakably a pair of some animal's teeth. His heavy sword bounced against his shank as he walked, but he also carried a large mace with spikes made out of iron thrust in his belt. The Chancellor saw a despicable savage in him – but Tammutyen saw an able warrior. As they reached the centre of the hall and came to stand upon the hide spread before the few chairs decorated with fur, teeth and Gangar bear skulls, there was movement to their left. The Droddian leading them dropped to his knees at once, which movement was accompanied by a loud clank of metal.

Chief Growthak was a Droddian of medium height, his black hair tangled and matted, a sort of a crown made out of teeth resting upon his head; his expression was grim, as of every Droddian, but he lacked the empty-brained savageness that was characteristic of his race. His black eyes were glinting in the torchlight as he set them upon the newcomers, and approached them in a firm, quick pace, followed by a few Droddians who kept their distance, pausing behind the pillars and staring at the kneeling Chancellor and the upright standing Sith knight. Apparently the Chief took the Sith's impertinence as a sign that he considered himself powerful enough not to have to kneel before the Chief of Gangar, and he understood it quite differently than the Chancellor would have – his opinion on him grew enormously, even after he heard his men's rumours about the warrior who was asking to speak to him. They certainly rode slowly enough to allow a number of messengers run to the Chief and inform him of the visitors.

"You bring the seal of the ruler of Gotan, do you, warrior?" the Chief addressed Lord Tammutyen, not paying the slightest attention to the Chancellor, who was in fact quite grateful for this.

"Not only his seal, Chief," said the Sith in his deep voice, at the sound of which the Droddians stirred a little and exchanged glances. They always tried to speak deeper as they considered a deep voice to be a characteristic of a powerful warrior, but this person seemed to have a naturally deep voice, what increased their interest. "But his personal message, too."

He approached the Chief and handed him a scroll. He towered over the Droddian Chief, who scrutinised him with his glance as quickly as he could, trying to drink in every detail, every line, every hint of weapon that lurked beneath his cloak. As he managed to tear off his glance from him, he smiled a little to himself, unrolled the scroll and began to read, still standing. Tammutyen fell aback and crossed his hands on his chest, exposing his leather wristbands and watching the Chief carefully. If he knew how to differentiate between an accident, a fleeting occurrence, and true experience of the Dark side, the Chancellor would know that he was listening at the Chief's thoughts, stretching out his senses around him.

The Chief's reaction was unexpected and it came as a shock to the Chancellor. He gave a loud exclamation, boring his eyes into the parchment, as though uncertain he understood it well enough, rolled it again and positively beamed at the Sith knight. He yelled out a harsh sentence, still staring at him, at what the Droddians behind his back dispersed. They did not even consider coming back to eavesdrop; their Chief was far too notorious for his executions and death by torture, what would amuse the crowd atop of everything else.

"Sit, sit," he said at last, pointing a hand toward the wooden chairs set before his own, settling himself comfortably on the grey fur and suddenly giving a laugh.

"The king of snow and ice never ceases to amaze me," he said at length, still grinning. His Albinian was actually pretty good, thought the Chancellor. "But to have the warrior of darkness to stand by his side, that is indeed most unexpected."

Apparently the scroll informed him of Lord Tammutyen's true identity, thought the Chancellor, surprised, but once again, as it was the case with Lady Tarralyanna, not of his own. But far from being afraid, the Droddian Chief now looked up with unhidden admiration at the Sith knight. His appearance matched the rumours and legends of the Sith, which was probably why the ruler of Gotan sent him to Gangar, and not Tarralyanna. The Sith knight inclined his head to the right as to indicate a bow and settled himself on the wooden chair. He slowly drew down his hood, and for a moment, the only sound audible was the crackling of numerous fires.

"But do you," asked Chief Growthak, glancing over him, "have the blood of my race in your veins, Sith knight?"

"No, Chief," answered the Sith, shaking his head. "By birth, I am Albinian. But my service to the Dark side has claimed its price – and now I am neither."

"But your hair… your eyes," said the Chief, staring at him.

He heard that the Sith usually hid their faces, and there was a lot of guesswork of what lurked underneath the hoods they always wore. But this Sith's face, although unnaturally pale (the Droddians considered paleness to be feminine, as the females' skin was a less dark than the males'), was nothing grotesque or horrible to look at. In fact, it was quite pleasing to the eye, if one would exclude his scars. But of course, a warrior is meant to have scars and the Droddians were very proud of having battle scars.

"Not everything is as it seems, Chief," answered the Sith carefully and vaguely, in his deep, sonorous voice. Indeed, his hair, although black, shared none of the thickness and curliness with that of the Droddians'; it was long but thin and quite straight.

"I can understand your reticence, Lord Tammutyen," said the Chief, his enthusiasm for the Sith not diminishing the least after this cryptic statement. "And I have always respected the ruler of the land of snow and ice. For a pale-skin, he has the mind of a great warrior indeed. His advice contributed to the flourish of my land and prosperity of my people. Thus I shall honour his call at once, and depart for his kingdom. But as the preparations run on, I shall invite you to a dinner with my Seniors and me tonight. This is a great occasion, to have you here, among us – and a Banzzor bear shall be prepared for dinner."

The Sith's eyes gave a hungry glint, and the Chancellor thought back of the last lunch he ate, a whole cauldronful of reptile stew, happy that he found a place at last where meat was appreciated and prepared in great amounts.

"The journey was long, Chief," said the Sith quietly, "and a good dinner shall be very welcome."

"That is arranged, then," laughed the Chief, nodding at him sharply. "Enter that door, Sith knight and his companion. I shall send my concubines to take care of you."

Concubines, thought the Chancellor! A line of veiled Droddian women entered the room where Tammutyen and the Chancellor waited for no more than a few minutes, the Chancellor not daring to say anything, seeing that the Sith already had the matter under his control and that everything was running as smoothly as oil. The Sith knight did not permit the women to touch him or to take his clothes off; he did this himself, instructing them in lousy Droddian that they should back when he would call them. The women were busy for a few minutes in the bath and then finally left, leaving a pool full of steaming geyser water behind them. When they came back, he was already sitting in the water, veiled in steam, so that it was impossible to see his naked body, his clothes piled neatly on a nearby chair. He was vigorously washing his hair with an enormous soap and not paying attention to them. They took away his clothes to be cleaned without a word and did not even come near the pile of weapons that occupied the second chair, steering clear of him and bowing to him before they went. One of his roars was enough for them to do as he told them, to obey his strange wishes, and they disappeared behind the veil. Of course, to decline the offer of the Chief's concubines could be interpreted as an insult to the Chief himself, but Tammutyen did not care. He was enjoying the boiling hot water enormously after all that chill, snow and wind.

And in the adjacent room, after being massaged and covered in strange oil, the Chancellor wrapped a rag around his waist, which the Droddians apparently used instead of towels, and went to search for the Sith knight, meaning to ask him how he should behave at the dinner and what were his plans in general, as he did not have a chance to speak to him since they left the Chief. He could hear his booming voice roaring in Droddian from the room to his right, and he found him without any trouble at all, trying to sort out his thoughts. He was not Droddian, but was looking like one because of his use of the Dark side. He thought back of his Lord, and remembered that his eyes, too, were dark, and that his hair, too, was black. But he knew, for one, that his Lord was definitely Albinian by birth, as he used to be a protégé of the former ruler of Gotan, who had no heirs, and that he thus came to the throne. Such a mystery, he thought; but Tammutyen's statement elucidated matters a little. Tying up his own rag around his waist, the Sith knight was standing with his back turned to him, his wet hair dripping down his back.

There was a drawing that stretched across the whole of his muscular back (it certainly did not come off with water) of something green and blue, something that seemed like an indistinct form of lines. However, in a flash of comprehension the Chancellor realised this was a complicated drawing of a dragon, looking almost alive as the Sith picked up another rag and was drying his face with it, the muscles on his back moving as he did so. He turned around slowly. There were different pictured all across his chest as well, on his pale, snow-white skin. But the Sith looked like he was carved in stone. There was something on his chest, however, the sight of which made the Chancellor feel as though someone dropped an ice cube into his stomach. It was a large circular scar, a dent in his flesh at the level of his heart, as though it used to be a deadly wound; but the size of it made the Chancellor wonder how he ever survived. His glance quickly slid down to his forearm, where he spotted something that was unmistakably the result of branding. He bit his lip and held his breath, looking away. The Sith's eyes were resting upon him, glinting malevolently.

"My Lord," the Chancellor stammered out, staring at his bare feet. "Forgive me for my intrusion."

"Curiosity is in human nature," said the Sith quietly. "But it will at least serve to convince you that I do not wear pillows under my robes."

On a few occasions, these were exact Chancellor's thoughts. He swallowed, not daring to look up, hearing the rustle of fabric and believing that he was putting his clothes on. When he next did, however, the Sith was fully clothed, and was twiddling with the leather straps of his scabbard, grinning evilly at him and relishing the look of embarrassment on his face.

"You were the only living thing around me for weeks," said the Sith thoughtfully, turning over his Ptah in his hands, and then passing the strap over his head. "And I have to exercise my mental abilities."

"And as for my scar," he went on, voicing the Chancellor's thoughts, now making him flush deeply. "That is what happens when one displeases the Dark Lord." It was the first time he called him that in front of someone; mostly he either called him 'the ruler of Gotan' or 'my Master'. But the use of his title along with the mention of his punishment, spoken with respect, coming from a man who seemed to be afraid of nothing, made the Chancellor swallow and wonder who indeed had he been serving all these years.

Lord Tammutyen turned away from him, picking up his bag where he kept his hideous jars and boxes, which rattled ominously. The Chancellor shivered, a vivid picture of his Lord with a spear in his hand, running his student through in a fit of rage, appearing before his eyes. He shook it off weakly. He knew that he was a cruel, merciless man, but he would have imagined that he would treat his only students and heirs to his skill and knowledge a little better, than scarring them and abusing them. Mar-Taat-Moor was quite right, he thought; it was no wonder they were scared stiff of him, being abused and mistreated like this since they were children. He truly felt sorry for the Sith. All this time he thought that Tammutyen and Tarralyanna were spoiled, arrogant youngsters; but they hardly had a happy childhood, far from it. Shut in that hateful mansion of the Sith Lord's, not seeing day or night, working, training, all under his watchful eye, his hand always ready to execute punishment. They were grown-ups, but they have never been children, he realised. They never had this luxury.

"Get dressed, then," said the Sith sharply, nodding toward the door, "We have a honorary dinner to attend."

"Yes, my Lord," said the Chancellor, now remembering what he came for. "But—may I ask? How should I behave? Should I speak at all? Unless addressed?"

"They will not speak to you," said the Sith with a quick smile. "And you may rest in peace with the knowledge that your reticence shall not be taken as an offence, but rather as politeness. In the Droddian world, the one who speaks the most often is the most powerful warrior. Thus they measure worthiness, and it is only polite and a sign of good manners if everyone else remains quiet."

And so it was. The dining hall was a long, high-ceilinged hall, illuminated by torches that spread that funny, pungent smell of the oil they used, and the air was thick with the smell of fresh roast. The Chancellor walked right behind the Sith knight, as they were led into it by a Droddian who came for them. Everyone seemed to be assembled already, except for the Chief himself, whose large chair was at the head of the table. The two chairs to his left were reserved for the Chancellor and Tammutyen, what they concluded as they were led to them. Murmur in the hall reached a very high volume as they entered, but the Sith calmly lifted his hand in the air once again, saluting them, glancing around himself quickly, and then sitting down, not taking his weapons off for anything in the world. The Chancellor was relieved he was appointed to sit beside him, and eagerly pushed his chair closer to him. He would not normally do this, desire to be in such closeness of the Sith, but as it were, there were worse things than that and thus he was quite happy to be sitting beside him, casting a nervous glance at the Droddian beside him, who was watching Tammutyen, but whose small, dark eyes darted in his direction at some point, with him baring his teeth as he met his glance. Was this because he was trying to smile to him and act friendly, or because he was trying to threaten him, it was impossible to say, thought the Chancellor.

At last, the Chief appeared, together with two Droddians who came to stand to his right. Chief Growthak glanced around himself, and then grinned. Most of his men did not agree with his politics and his way of running things, especially with what they called 'keeping the nation in a cage' by the means of his harsh laws and offering a poor substitute for their natural instincts for hunting and bloodshed in the shape of games. But they feared him, and they respected him. Growthak was an unequalled warrior, and this earned him his reputation and fear of his subordinates. Tammutyen was amused to note that there was a lot of animosity directed at the Chief passing through the heads of the present Droddians, the more after he invited two 'unworthy' ones to his table. He smiled at this.

The Chief spread his arms and began to speak. Droddian language resembled barking, with a lot of hissing and spitting noises, which could have been better expected to be emitted by an animal, rather than a human being. Tammutyen could not understand a lot, as he was speaking too quickly, but he could note, by catching his thoughts, that he was being mentioned. The approximate translation would be:

"Today we welcome ministers from the kingdom of Gotan," said the Chief, glancing over everyone, unsurprised with the fact that there were many frowns in the direction of the two. "One of which is a great warrior in his country. In their honour, we are having a Bazzor bear today!"

A few grunted, looking away, despite of their admiration for the formidable figure of the Sith knight. Of course, the Chief did not mention his identity to anyone, respecting the wish of the ruler of Gotan, and thus he merely said that this warrior had Droddian blood in him, not inventing a lie, but merely confirming what they all believed already.

"You have something to say?" addressed the Chief a few grunting individuals, who quickly shook their heads, but still wearing disapproving expressions. Tammutyen smiled lightly and leaned aback, twiddling with the plate before him as though he owned it.

"The trustee of the Chief perhaps has his doubts," said Tammutyen in his deep voice that echoed through the hall, at the sound of which everyone fell silent, startled with the fact that he spoke their language, even if his Droddian was lousy. "I shall be happy to bespeak the matter with him after dinner. A warrior must eat well, after all, before he discusses war matters."

Silence fell upon the long table and now everyone was looking at the Chief, as it would be his approval that would decide the matter in the end. Chief Growthak seemed to consider this for a moment, but at length he nodded. Everyone understood where this was leading, except for the Chancellor, who could not understand a word they were barking at each other.

"I shall allow it," he said. "As it concerns a guest."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Tammutyen, rubbing his enormous palms, the few addressed individuals muttering among themselves. "I thank you, Chief. Now let us eat!"

Roars of approval followed and the Chancellor, casting an aside glance at the Sith, figured that this was an invitation to start the feast. Large pieces of roasted bear were distributed and Tammutyen started devouring it, wrinkling his nose at anything that was plant-related. The Chief was watching him with a smile as he loaded his own plate.

"What have you told them?" asked the Chancellor, reaching out for the plate with mushrooms.

"That…" mumbled the Sith with his mouth full, "I would help them to clear up any scepticism concerning me."

"Meaning, my Lord?" asked the Chancellor sharply. He could see the Sith's deep scar he had on his cheek from up close. It was horrible, he thought. That was not another punishment, was it?

"Meaning," said the Sith, swallowing, "that I would fight with them for the honour of my Master, and that of his kingdom."

"But," started the Chancellor, a mushroom falling off his fork as he gave a startle of surprise. "Surely that is not necessary!"

"I shall take that as a concern for my welfare, rather than doubt in my skill," said Tammutyen contemptuously, putting the earthen cup filled with wine to top aside, which he downed in a few mighty gulps. "Trust me, it is necessary. Here, in their domain, it is necessary. Master warned me about it, and gave his permission."

This did not serve to comfort the Chancellor. This was meant to be a mission of peace, a missionary, rather than a duelling club.

The full capacity of the Sith's stomach was now brought into question. Long after the Chancellor had eaten more than he could and was sitting groggily on his chair, sipping wine and trying to keep himself awake, the Sith was eating and eating and eating, filling a plate after plate, devouring everything in sight as though he had not eaten in weeks. The Chief watched him with amusement, along with every Droddian present in the room. Nostrils full of that obnoxious oil, the Chancellor was casting aside glances at him, as though hoping that the conversation led between him and the Droddians was merely an exchange of words. However, once the Sith wiped off his mouth and gave a loud belch, making the Chancellor jump in his seat, because he did not believe he was such a savage that he was not familiar with the simplest of table manners, he looked around himself, as though daring someone to say something.

"Who was it, then, that wanted to measure swords with me?" he asked in a loud, booming voice.

The hall fell silent once again. The torches blazed and crackled and every eye was fixed upon him, including that of the Chancellor, who understood better than he would have liked to what he was asking, despite of the fact he was speaking in Droddian.

"Tongues sharper than your swords, are they?" the Sith added contemptuously, picking up his goblet and smirking.

"Apparently not as sharp as yours, pale-face," snapped one of the few who were the most obvious in their displays of animosity. The Chief let out a loud hissing noise.

"There will be no insulting at my table!" he yelled loudly, the pottery rattling as he thumped his fist against the table. "Or else I shall consider you nothing more than mindless bears, the like of which we have eaten tonight!"

"My Chief," said the Droddian in a false expression of humility, but unable to hide his nervousness, keeping an eye on the Chief's hands, lest a knife appeared there all of a sudden. "I apologise."

"It is only understandable, Chief," said Tammutyen, his arms crossed on his chest, eyeing the Droddian with amusement. "We have are newcomers in the land of warriors. It is only natural to expect from us to prove ourselves. I speak for my companion, for he is no warrior. Sixth Cyrron hour, place of choice, weapon of choice. You choose your champions, but you agree to one thing."

"Champions?" echoed the Droddian, baring his teeth in, now apparently, threatening fashion. "More than one, you mean?" Perhaps he believed that Tammutyen's grammar was worse than he himself realised.

"Six will do," said Tammutyen, scratching his hairless chin thoughtfully and looking up to the ceiling as though not noticing them at all, "But you agree to one thing."

"What is that?" asked the Droddian, now laughing, along with everyone else, except for the Chief, whose admiration for the Sith grew as he heard what he was proposing.

"You acknowledge the power of the winner," said the Sith, baring his own teeth at him and giving an unpleasant growl that was supposed to be a laugh. "And bear up with defeat like any warrior with honour," finished Tammutyen, leaning aback and once again crossing his hands on the chest.

The Droddians appeared a little confused with this proposition, but now was not the time to pull back. They exchanged glances and grinned at each other.

"Agreed," growled the Droddian across the table.

"Good," said Tammutyen with a quick smile, "You discuss the matter among yourselves. And do not forget that we have come to an agreement before your Chief."

oooooooooooooooooo

"Ah," sighed the Sith as they were led to their chambers, or places they would sleep. "I am so looking forward to this. I have never partaken in a true fight before."

"But, my Lord," whispered the Chancellor, pausing and staring at him, uncertain whether to consider him mad or brave, "How do you intend to…?"

The Sith raised his eyebrows at him, pausing as well, and shook his head in disbelief.

"What do you think I have been trained to do all of my life, than this?" he asked with a hint of laughter. "I have been chosen among millions and millions of inhabitants of this world by the Dark Lord. Do you honestly think a few Droddians could ever pose a threat to me?"

He resumed walking without waiting for him to say anything, and, disappearing round the corner, he said over his shoulder:

"Rest," waving a hand dismissively, "Tomorrow is going to be a great day for Gotan."


	12. Chapter 11 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

This is the second part of Chapter 10. I have no idea who's reading, what you think about my story so far, whether you have suggestions or remarks of some kind... Come on, leave a review. :)

Cassie

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CAP. XI – Maak Nook, the Great Warrior

The Dark Lord was very pleased about Tammutyen's plan, but he advised him to rely on his physical strength and combat technique solely,and use the Dark side subtly. Tarralyanna was very excited, as he knew how much he yearned for actual battle, and she resolved, despite of the fact she was still travelling back home, that she would pause and follow his battle through the Dark side, promising not to disturb him as she did so. She was beside herself with curiosity.

"But, my Lord," the Chancellor was whispering into his ear as he walked beside him the following morning. Lord Tammutyen was striding down the corridors, a look of cold determination on his pale face, and the Chancellor had to trot to keep up his pace. "One could be understandable – but _six_?"

"My Master does not object, so I cannot see why you should," answered the Sith knight coolly.

"If he could know what you have promised, and about to do, yes, but…" the Chancellor plunged on, shaking his head.

"The Dark Lord knows," said Tammutyen seriously, pausing in his walk and surveying him with his black eyes. "He always knows."

He went on, not looking back, his black cloak billowing behind him, leaving the Chancellor stare after him. This very much reminded him of something Mar-Taat-Moor once said. He tore after the Sith knight, resolving not to mention this again. He knew what he was doing, and it seemed that nothing the Chancellor said or did would make any difference, but would annoy him.

The atrium – or what Tammutyen called the atrium, as it was enclosed by pillars, a vast space within the Chief's mansion itself – was packed with people. The Sith walked in slowly, looking around himself and then calmly lighting up a cigar at the top of the three stairs leading down. There was murmur as he made an appearance, but it was to be expected, thought the Chancellor, walking in right behind him, out of breath because he had been running corridor after corridor after the Sith who had an unusually long and quick pace. At the adjacent side stood the Droddian with whom he agreed on a sword measuring, as he called it, and as he spotted him he straightened up, a threat reverberating in his deep-set dark eyes. For a moment he watched smoke come out of Tammutyen's nostrils, and then moved forward.

"I have chosen five more warriors," he said carefully, not wishing to say anything that might be considered as insulting, because the Chief was sitting on a terrace over his head, his glance fixed on him.

"Good for you," said Tammutyen, giving a snort, still smoking, and then spotting the Chief; he lifted his hand in the air as a salute. The Chief waved back at him, his eyes glinting with excitement.

"I shall use my double-bladed sword, if you do not mind," said Tammutyen, pointing a finger at the long scabbard on his back, where his Ptah rested.

"We have never seen a weapon like it," said another Droddian, staring at it.

"Well, if it intimidates you, I can always use a common sword," said Tammutyen with a shrug of his massive shoulders, as though not caring.

The truth was that he had done a lot of thinking, weighing his options; and he concluded that he must try to get them to let him use his Ptah. It was the weapon that he most favoured, the weapon with which he grew up. After its subtle balance and its unusual length he would always find a common sword rather awkward to handle. He preferred to have it light, because the Ptah itself was light, but this could be a drawback when used against the heavy clubs they called swords.

"You can use your ridiculous sword," growled the first Droddian.

"Very well," said Tammutyen. The Chancellor emerged behind him, pale and nervous. He settled himself away from the Droddians, or as far as he could, choosing a convenient stone wall to sit on. "Oh, Ferrighan, there you are," said the Sith, switching back to Albinian. The Chancellor jumped to his feet again. "Here," said the Sith, pulling off his girdle with his sword and dagger hanging off from it, and offering it to him. "Keep an eye on them."

The Chancellor opened his mouth to say something, but closed it immediately, merely nodding at him and taking the girdle from him with a bow. There was nothing I could do, he reminded himself.

The Droddians now formed a wide circle, and the six champions were unsheathing their swords. Heavy, terrible things, thought the Chancellor, with their hilts the size of his upper arm; and judging by the size of Tammutyen's scabbard, his sword was not even close as heavy. The Sith tossed away his cigar carelessly and took down his Ptah, propping it against a pillar and beginning to take off his cloak. Silence fell on the Droddians, as everyone watched the tall warrior take off his cloak, remaining in a tight shirt and black pants that disappeared in his boots. Aside with the fact he was a monumental piece of a man, there was something utterly intimidating in the way he dressed, thought the Chancellor – all black, fitting him narrowly, following the lines of his body perhaps too well. He slowly rolled up his sleeves, exposing his muscular forearms, the terrible branding scar on his right forearm and thick leather wristbands. One thing, perhaps, that did not fit into the picture of a warrior, were his rings, thought the Chancellor. There was also a heavy medallion around his neck, but the Sith did not seem to think it should be taken off.

He seemed very much immersed in his preparations, now solemnly reaching down for his Ptah and unsheathing it – the scabbard parted at the middle, and the Ptah was then taken out by removing the two scabbards completely. The Droddians standing closest to him exclaimed at the sight of it. It was a terrible, and yet an unfamiliar weapon, they thought; and yet the Droddians, with their simple swords, were perhaps better off with them, rather than the Sith with that long, hard-to-wield weapon that looked more like a gymnastics prop or a horseman's spear than the weapon of a footman. Its blades were so sharp they seemed almost parchment-thin at the sides, because the Sith would sharpen it tirelessly and polish the blades almost every day. There was a piece of leather wrapped around the middle, probably to ease the grip on it, along with a few odd scribbles engraved on both blades. The Chancellor had never seen this language.

The Sith turned with it in hand to the Chancellor, giving a nasty, evil grin, and spinning the weapon quickly around in his hand, like that day he saw him exercise. The Droddians, who had been pointing at his sword and laughing at its length and uselessness, paused at that, their grins fading. He seemed to handle it as easily as though it was a toothpick, nothing more.

"Do not worry, Ferrighan," said the Sith quietly, in Albinian, as the Droddians huddled together for a quick council once again. "You will not see a lot of blood today."

"I hope it will not be yours, my Lord," said the Chancellor quietly.

The Sith smiled softly at him, trying out the heaviness and balance of his sword by moving his fingers along the handle. The Ptah was turned with the fist, and not by passing it through the fingers, as was Tarralyanna's Saragon, and the size of Tammutyen's fists were definitely an advantage in handling it.

"I shall try not to kill all of them," he said with a malicious laugh, turning to the Droddians, and standing quite still with his Ptah in his right hand with an air of finality.

The Droddians made a few paces forward, their swords held on ready, eyeing the Sith, who got serious all of a sudden. His braided hair was pushed deep within his robes as not to bother him, and his ringed right hand was lightly holding the Ptah. But as he inhaled deeply and called upon the Dark side which rushed to him, the Droddians blinked, staring at him. They could not explain it, as they could exactly feel the Force, but they could feel his rage oozing from him in powerful waves that were smothering. His scarred face was frozen in a look of cold determination and his dark eyes, bottomless pits of destruction, got even darker. If there was an expert at summoning rage and using it, then it was Lord Tammutyen. The rush of power which he felt as soon as he surrounded himself with the Dark side made him give the Droddians one last, nasty grin. Oh, how he loved that feeling.

The servant of the Dark side stood with his feet wide apart, his glance resting on his opponents, who stared back and time seemed to stand still. He reached out for their thoughts through the Dark side as the first three Droddians in line raised their swords and charged at him with howls worthy of wolves. Tammutyen ducked quickly, knowing their intentions, blocking two of them at once with his Ptah, then sweeping the red soil with his foot and knocking down the third, after what he launched himself in the air, turning once and landing behind them, immediately stabbing one in the back with the sharp blade. The Chancellor winced, his heart leaping. Blood gushed out all over the Droddian's bear hide, and he bared his teeth in anger at the Sith, who now had the remaining three charging at him from behind his back. The Chancellor opened his mouth to yell out a warning, but the Sith saw it through the Dark side. His senses were razor-sharp.

They have now taken a different approach, surrounding him from all sides, whereas the Sith spun with his Ptah so fast that it seemed as though he was going through a pre-meditated scheme, almost some sort of a battle pattern he learned by heart. But so it was. These battle patterns, called _b'daars_ in the ancient Sith, were devised by the Sith of old and perfected by the Dark Lord, who taught his students all of them. Tammutyen learned and knew all sixty of them. Metal clashed against metal and resounded between the pillars; shortly after what the Sith hit one of his opponents with his foot in the chest so hard he flew off to bang his head against a pillar, knocking him out, the sword falling out of his hand.

The Sith was a blur of arms and legs, kicking and turning, jumping and ducking. None of the Droddians seemed to be able to jump as he did; his turns in the air looked almost like a child's play, given the ease with which he was performing them.

The Chancellor caught himself punching the air with his fist and cheering. Had someone told him he would be doing this only yesterday, he would have called him a bloody madman. He had to admit to himself that the Sith's skill was something to stare at. But now the Chancellor went positively white; a Droddian, facing the Chancellor with his sword in the both of his hands, apparently turning to chase after the Sith who jumped over his head, suddenly dropped his sword, blood gushing out on his mouth. Looking down, the Chancellor saw a blade coming out of his stomach, or where his heart was. The Droddian warrior gave a shiver and then toppled down on the ground. The Sith's face, contorted in rage, appeared behind him, one side of his Ptah bloody, which he spun around at once, sending droplets of blood flying around his head.

There was not supposed to be any deaths, thought the Chancellor in a frenzy, straightening up and climbing to stand on the wall to be able to see better – there was not supposed to be so much blood! The remaining four paused with their swords at ready, their eyes wide with concentration; the Sith spun his bloody Ptah in his right hand, baring his teeth at them, obviously daring them to attack him and taking the combat position once again. Defending their honour, they charged at him, quickly agreeing on the tactics they were going to use. They would attack him as quickly as possible, slashing with their swords at him and surrounding him. But the Ptah was a whirring, deadly machinery in the Sith's hands, which did not allow any of them to approach him, as he spun it in his right, then left hand, passing it from one to the other as though it was nothing more than a toy.

One of them got slashed and stumbled aback due to the force of the Sith's movement; it was quite enough for Tammutyen to turn like a tornado, gathering up force and kicking him in the chest with his foot, at the same time lifting his sword to deflect attacks of the other two behind his back. His kick was strong and precise and the Droddian rolled over, knocked out. A more experienced warrior, one of the Chief's Seniors, or how he called them, managed to sweep Tammutyen off his feet, noticing that he was moving around a lot and that his weak point was under his belt. He kicked him hard on the shins, strong enough to break his knee, but the Sith did not even wince, as he rolled over the ground, lifting his Ptah so that he could block slashes of their swords; however, he received a stab in his leg. He withdrew his leg forcefully to pull out the blade from his flesh, bent backwards, like an eel, and rolled over his head, landing on his feet and jumping up. The Droddians exclaimed at this; and the Chancellor was yelling like mad, his palms sweaty. He is unbelievable, he thought, clenching his fists and watching him.

The Droddians were a little taken aback with the fact he had just managed to pull his leg out and roll over, but not enough for the Sith to gain enough time to kill all of them, as they jumped backwards and remained standing with their swords at ready. As both parties paused a little to regain breath, the Chancellor could at last have a better look at him. His pale chest was showing under his shirt and it was bathing in sweat. He learned from his mistake, however; now he did not allow them anywhere near his feet or head, his leg throbbing and bleeding. But if he learned one thing during all those years he spent training at the Temple, then it was to endure pain, to detach himself from it and to go on. Tammutyen got punished and injured so many times, that he was quite an expert at this.

Spinning the now bloody Ptah around him, the two ducked, gving Lord Tammutyen enough time to kicked one with his foot, and then instantly, jumping to the other foot, still turning the sword in his right hand and keeping a Force eye on the two, delivered the Droddian a fatal kick under his chin. He tottered aback, his mouth bleeding. Tammutyen whirled around like lighting; he shifted to his other leg, kicking the injured Droddian hard in the chest. The Droddian flew through the air due to the force of the kick, and landed on the ground, knocked out cold. Jumping over the two remaining opponents' heads, the Sith sank into a crouch as soon as he landed, and thrust one side of his Ptah deep into the flesh of one, killing him on the spot, whereas the second one made a wild slash with his sword, thus exposing his heart to him, through which Tammutyen passed the other blade of the Ptah. He shook it well, and then pulled it out, bloody and warm, his dark eyes watching the Droddian fall down on his back, remaining motionless.

Silence fell on the Atrium. Only Tammutyen's deep breathing and stifled moans of wounded Droddians was audible. Tammutyen straightened up in his full height, his fingers covered in blood, the very picture of a merciless avenger. He spun his Ptah for the last time, spraying the ground with blood and remains of flesh, lifted it in the air, and gave a loud, animal roar.

The Droddians have never seen anything like it. Several younger Droddians looked up to the Chief, who was nodding slowly, and then dared to voice their opinion on this. They have been taught, since birth, to respect better warriors than they were, to admire battle skill and courage, no matter what.

Thus they, too, exploded in roars and thumped the ground with the hilts of their swords, what reminded the Chancellor of battle drums. Slowly, the rhythmical thudding was carried around, and soon an unbearable mixture of thudding and roaring filled the Atrium. He clapped his hands over his ears, staring at the Sith, who now slowly limped forward, carrying his Ptah, and wiping its bloody blades with a piece of fur he tore off the clothes of one of the fallen warriors.

"Lord Tammutyen," called the Chief after him, getting to his feet. The Sith turned and looked at him instantly; the noise died away, and everyone stared up at the Chief.

"Why have you spared them?" The Chief was pointing his finger at the three unconscious Droddians, a look of utmost seriousness on his face. The Chancellor could not believe his ears; he would have believed that he might have been more pleased that the Sith did not kill all of them, what he could have, as it were; and now he was asking why he left them alive? But Tammutyen knew the laws of battle very well, and he knew why the Chief was asking him this, in front of everyone – a challenge was a challenge, it meant a fight to death, because those who lost would believe they did not have a reason to live, having lost their honour, and were thus killed out of mercy.

"They are your Seniors, servants of the land of Gangar, able and worthy warriors," he answered in a trembling voice, amidst deep, painful breaths, his enormous chest heaving up and down. "You shall need them yet, Chief. They ought not be ashamed of their defeat, for no one has ever triumphed over me, and your warriors fought very well indeed."

The Chief stared at him, as Tammutyen inclined his head forward as to indicate a bow and turned around, still panting; he limped toward the Chancellor, who was on his feet, not daring to run toward him, but anxiously awaiting him by the stairs.

The Chief smiled at this, watching him go; then he yelled out a few harsh sentences in Droddian to the people who were holding his unconscious warriors, at what they were carried in. Everyone was avoiding Tammutyen and the Chancellor in wide arcs, not wishing to disturb the great warrior, but they were casting glances of admiration at him as they passed. The Chancellor looked as though he could hug him.

"Do not even think about it," snapped the Sith grumpily as these exact thoughts passed through his head, at what the Chancellor's lips spread into a wide grin. He found his thought-reading very awkward and quite creepy in the beginning; but in this moment it was just amusing.

"Now come on," said the Sith, draping his cloak over his back which was dripping with sweat. "I have a wound for you to take care of for me."

"Would not the Chief's women do it better than I would?" asked the Chancellor, trotting beside him, still carrying his belt. "I have never done that in my life."

"Perhaps," growled the Sith. "But I want you to do it, as a matter of fact. Now quit complaining, and hurry up."

The Chancellor followed him into his chambers, a dimly lit, infernally hot place, and sat down where the Sith showed him.

"Here," he said, pushing something into his hand with his bloody fingers, at the sight of which the Chancellor winced. "And here." He placed a bowl of fresh water on a crude table beside him. He pulled down his boots and rolled up his pants, exposing a horrible sight. It looked as though his bone was smashed on one side, as his leg was bulged; but what shocked the Chancellor was not the horridness of his wound, but the colour of the liquid oozing from it and trailing down his leg.

"My Lord," he gasped, pinching his nose, "You got yourself filthy with something! It looks like…"

"Just clean the wound, Ferrighan," whispered the Sith, leaning aback and breathing heavily, taking one of his jars in his hand and drinking avidly from it, his leg outstretched before him. The Chancellor felt like he was going to throw up, and was fighting back retching impulses as he bent over it. He quickly dipped a rag in the water and began dabbing the Sith's wound. As he did so, the Sith did not wince or move at all. He just sat there, drinking from his jar, and when he drank all of it, whatever it was, he set it aside and belched wearily. The Chancellor did not waste his thoughts on how rude and ill-mannered he was, but gave his best to clean his wound, wondering at the absence of blood as he placed carefully the herbs Tammutyen gave him on the bare bone and flesh and then started dressing it.

"There was no blood, my Lord…" he whispered, wiping off the sweat from his face and trying to get a grip on himself, wishing he could open a window – it was infernally hot. The Sith lowered his pants over his leg again, his lip trembling. Next he pulled off his shirt and turned his back to the Chancellor without a word. There was a deep slash as well at the level of his kidney. The Chancellor's words trailed off. The black liquid, oozing from the wound, seemed to be bubbling; the skin seemed to be moving around, as though there was something alive under it, fighting to break free. He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment and accepting whatever Tammutyen pushed into his hand and thinking that he was starting to imagine things. He let out a loud gasp as he opened his eyes again and saw exactly the same thing.

"Sew it," hissed the Sith in a deep, terrible voice.

The Chancellor averted his glance from the slash for a moment, and, his hands trembling, pulled the thread through the eye of the needle and placed his hands on the Sith's skin carefully. He withdrew them instantly, his stomach clenching. He was as cold as a corpse, his skin taut and his flesh hard, as though he was indeed carved out of stone, rather than made of flesh and blood! But his deep, painful breathing and a threatening glance assured him that it would be for the best if he just did as he was told, and fell to sewing his wound without a word, trying to steady his hands. The Sith, again, did not move, and the Chancellor's needle pierced through his flesh as though through dead, stiff meat. If it was difficult enough to clean his wound, it was nothing compared to sewing his flesh. It was hard and rigid, like the skin and meat of a bear. When he finally finished, and bit off the end of the thread, he looked up nervously at the Sith.

Lord Tammutyen straightened up and pulled the shirt over his head and slowly turned to him, wearing a very serious expression on his face. The Chancellor got up and backed away.

"Like I said, I used to be Albinian," said the Sith quietly, watching him with his dark eyes twinkling in candlelight. In that moment the Chancellor got reminded of the way the ruler of Gotan sometimes looked at him – as though he could see right through his mind, his flesh and his bones. "But my constitution changed over the years."

He caught a million questions buzzing in the Chancellor's mind and gave a weak smile.

"My flesh heals itself, with the application of Force," he said. "It only needs encouragement when the wounds are too deep and too wide. If I eat bravely and walk a lot, my leg shall be as good as new in a few days."

"But… how…?" asked the Chancellor.

"The Dark side is the most powerful master in the Universe," said the Sith seriously. "But it also has its demands. A price to pay for power."

"The cold, is it, my Lord; the cold troubles you?" asked the Chancellor in a whisper, following the Sith with his glance, who limped across the room and lit up his pipe.

"The cold," he echoed softly, watching him through the smoke, and then reaching aside for a flagon. "The cold, the light. It is not a secret, Ferrighan, the whole Court knows it."

He placed the flagon before Ferrighan and nodded at it. He stared back at him, unable to believe his eyes. It was a cordial, judging by the welcome smells spreading from its depths.

"You need it," said the Sith, sitting down without a wince, although the Chancellor was certain he heard a crack coming from the direction of his leg. "Mighty Darkness, you are shaking as though you have fought with six Droddians, and not I."

He laughed and thrust the pipe in his mouth, puffing away. The Chancellor realised that the call on darkness was the Sith's way of exclaiming and expressing wonder. He gratefully accepted a glass from him and filled it with the cordial, taking a tentative sip.

"Drink," laughed the Sith in a bark that gave the Chancellor a start. "I shall not poison you."

"You see, how fear has its merits, Ferrighan?" he asked, almost rhetorically, leaning aback and stretching out his wounded leg. "It serves as a safety mechanism, to alert you when you are in danger. What do you fear, Ferrighan? Me? The Dark Lord?"

The Chancellor's lip trembled a little, but the Sith read his thoughts and he wished he would stop doing that, because it was getting embarassing.

"It is who we are," the Sith went on as he got his presumptions confirmed, smoking and gazing at him thoughtfully. "The fear of others is our strength. But I wonder why you fear horses?"

Ferrighan flushed deeply, and it had nothing to do with the heat.

"I fell off a horse when I was just a boy and it jumped over me, breaking my arm," he said quietly, looking down on his hands. As he spoke, he offered the Sith impressions from the past and his memories of the event. The Sith's brow furrowed.

"It was your father's fault," said the Sith slowly, shaking his head. "But childhood trauma runs so deep, it makes one fragile... It is so irrational. I wish I could understand it. Lady Tarralyanna does."

"Is there anything else I can do for you, my Lord?" asked the Chancellor with concern, staring at him and thinking that the Sith philosophy was far more complex than Mar-Taat-Moor first presumed.

"Perhaps all of the blood leaked out of the wound, but there are…" he went on, his voice trembling a little. Encouraged by the cordial and the Sith's calmness, absence of his usual snappishness and anger that had nothing to do with his use of the Dark side, he dared to mention his wound again.

"My blood is just fine," the Sith cut in, giving him a crooked smile and pouring himself a glass of cordial as well. "Have you not guessed it yet, Ferrighan? Come, come, you are an intelligent person, I thought you could do better."

"That… black liquid?" whispered Ferrighan, his glass almost falling out of his hand.

The Sith was smiling broadly at the look of horror on his face. Instilling fear in others has always been his favourite pastime and in a way he felt as though he was feeding on their fear.

"What is so odd about the colour of my blood?" he asked, laughing. "The Caelians have blue. Why ought I not have black?"

He chuckled in an amused way and was busy with his pipe for a moment. The Chancellor was staring at him with is mouth half-open.

"But…" he uttered, his tongue declining to obey him. "Is it because of the Force, my Lord?"

"Partially," said the Sith. "I can the questions you wish to pose to me. But I am afraid you got all of the answers I am going to give you."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Two days later, the Chancellor was riding behind the Sith knight, as they have finally set off toward Gotan, back through the kingdom of ice and storm, as the Droddians, of course, did not wish to go round and take the easy path to Gotan. The Chancellor was staring at the Sith's back and thinking about everything he said. Fearlessness did not make the Sith rash or careless, on the contrary; he was cold and calculated, but he simply did not seem to be able to experience fear. Except before… his Lord. When he spoke about him, he did so with admiration and fear in his voice and now Ferrighan began to wonder who could it be, that this rock of a man, this man who had so much power and skill that he could fight without the use of the Force and yet prevail over six opponents, the best warriors in Gangar, that he could be afraid of? His Lord, a man he knew half of his life and whom he served almost as equally long, a man who was notorious for his cruelty and his harshness. However, despite of his mercilessness, he was just. But he never, ever would have believed, not even in his wildest dreams, that he could fight as Lord Tammutyen did, although the fact remained that he was his teacher. What all had he been hiding for decades?

The Droddians avoided the Sith knight whenever they could and only the Chief had been seen exchanging words with him. He rode alone most of the time, smoking his pipe and doing his healing exercises constantly. One evening the Droddians disappeared in the snow-bound cliffs at the foot of the Strem-Nah to hunt, and when they returned, the three of them brought something wrapped in a thick rug. They placed it with deep bows before the silent Sith, who was smoking and gazing absently at the snow.

"Maak nook," said the foremost one, after what he bowed and quickly left, not wishing to disturb him.

The corner of the Sith's mouth trembled in an effort not to laugh. 'Maak nook' was one of the twelve words for a warrior in Droddian, and it meant 'great warrior' in a rough translation, or 'honourable one'. So, he thought; I have their absolute respect. The Chancellor, who was sitting a little away from him, craned his neck to see what was it that they brought him. The Sith tugged at the rag, peeked inside and smiled at the sight. It was a fried snake, as thick as his forearm, coiled so that it would be easier to carry it around. The Chancellor looked away as the Sith hungrily reached out for his dagger, but was glad that they managed to guess his eating preferences.

"My Lord," called the Chancellor, after he had eaten almost the entire snake, and was now drinking wine, eyeing its head and obviously thinking about eating that too. "May I inquire of your wounds? Is there something I can do to help?"

The Sith wordlessly reached out for his pants, and drew them up to reveal perfectly smooth, snow-white skin, without any trace of his black blood, without any trace of the smashed bone or the swelling. The Chancellor, although he remembered what he said about Force-healing, did not expect such a grievous wound to heal as quickly, and stared at it for a few moments, before the Sith smiled a little, taking another sip of his wine.

"The rays of the mighty Dark side penetrate flesh and blood, and to its power they are merely toys," said the Sith solemnly. "There is no power, or Force, more potent and mighty than the Dark side. Remember that, Ferrighan."

oooooooooooooooooo

At last the end of their journey was drawing near. They passed through the mountain villages of Gotan, its dwellers hanging the washing, hanging animals for the meat to be smoked and staring at the silent riders passing by. The Sith, who was in the lead, glanced up eagerly toward the dark sky. At the feet a great mountain was the Sith Temple, his home, and the place where he had spent his whole life. His heart doubled its beat as the immortal fire of Yllen loomed up in sight. The black flame danced in the strong wind of the Airy Season, which meant that the winds of the planet of Horukaan were in uproar. The tall, black tower of the Dark Lord was rose threateningly toward the dark skies. Lord Tammutyen felt like he had been absent for centuries.

The Sith knight reached the northern gate of the capital town of Gotan, not once looking over his shoulder as to see whether the Chancellor was behind him. His black stallion pounded anxiously the ground with its hooves, sensing that its own home lay beyond the Gate, flaring its nostrils at the guards standing before the gate. Their eyes widened at the sight of the long line of Droddian warriors approaching the gate and they stiffened up with their swords in their hands. They were armed with traditional swords of the mountain land, which had wide, slightly curved, serrated blades that could be used for many things, from hacking off frozen branches and cutting through ice, to killing mountain animals for food.

"Who goes?" yelled one in a frightened, hollow voice. The Sith drew back his hood to reveal his face, which was perfectly visible in the torchlight.

"Lord Tammutyen, prince of the land of Gotan," he said in his deep voice. "And the honourable Chief Growthak of Gangar."

The guards had not been told that there would be a delegation coming to Gotan and normally they would not have let them inside. But the Sith's presence was enough for them to kneel down at once, bowing their heads to the ground. The Droddians observed this without surprise; he was a great warrior and to have people kneel before him was quite natural, they felt. Thus they followed the Sith through the gate, casting contemptuous glances at the Albinian guards who were slowly getting to their feet.

Leading the Droddians into the Court, having disposed of their horses, Tammutyen paused in one of the atriums, wishing to consult his Master on what he should do next, at what he sensed Lady Tarralyanna coming in his direction. She apporached him in a quick pace, her black and violet hair flying behind her. She paused sheer before him and grinned broadly at him. Tammutyen grinned back and put his arms around her.

("You were magnificent,") she said, speaking in Sith, her pale cheeks suffused with a bit colour, parting with him to have a better look at him. ("I have seen and felt it all.")

("Even the sword in my leg?") he asked, sounding a little bitter.

He still had not forgiven himself for that – it was reckless and it was stupid, and he thought he could just kick himself for making such a foolish mistake. His Master taught him time and again never to allow his temporary feeling of superiority to blind him – and he had done exactly that.

("Well…") Lady Tarralyanna started, but then bit her lip and smiled again. ("I shall let Master be the judge of that.")

"Humph," said Tammutyen with feeling.

She turned to the Droddians and addressed the Chief.

"The ruler of Gotan welcomes you to his domain and encourages you to settle in and attend a honorary welcome feast in the hall," she said, looking the Chief straight in the eyes. The Chief, of course, knew she must be Lord Tammutyen's sister. And he knew that she was a Sith as well. He glanced over her and nodded, waving a hand toward his warriors, who readily followed him.

"Maak Nook," a few warriors muttered as they passed him by, ignoring Lady Tarralyanna.

"Really!" she exclaimed when they were gone. She turned to Tammutyen and crossed her hands on her chest. "Are they always like that?"

"Most of the time," replied Tammutyen with a broad grin.


	13. Chapter 12 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

In this chapter the Dark Lord reveals his secrets to his friends and make them his allies. Again, it used to be a part of a bigger chapter, but I split it in two parts.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XII– The Legend Comes to Life

The newcomers have been led to a vast, majestic hall made out of stone, its tall, mullioned windows, native to Gotan, allowed little, or no light at all to penetrate the hall. Long tables have beet set before the little elevation where the ruler of Gotan would normally sit; but this time the table draped in black was set for three. There was a black candle set before each chair, silver plates standing at ready, together with bejewelled, tall chalices. The Chancellor, taking his seat at the table reserved for the authorities of Gotan, after he had a very long and exhausting conversation with his countrymen about the Sith and about Lord Tammutyen, looked up to the table with surprise on his face. The ruler of Gotan always ate alone, but this obviously meant he wanted to have his apprentices eat with him. He and the general exchanged a significant glance as they sat beside each other, wearing their best clothes, clean and perfumed, feeling finally at home, but somehow ill at ease. There was something threatening, something ominous in the air, which was thick with anticipation... a lurking threat from the deep.

The Droddians fell into collective muttering and pointing as they spotted the Quentaanians sitting at the table across the hall, but the Chief roared out a single word, his eyes flashing vehemently at his warriors, who grudgingly sat down, attempting to hide their disapproval. They have come here, following the great warrior, Lord Tammutyen, but now he was not even there and their interest was quickly evaporating. Now they were nothing more but companions to their honourable Chief on this silly quest, and the only thought that kept them going was a glimmer of hope that there would be something good for dinner.

The hall was buzzing with muttering in all sorts of languages, for some of the Gotan authorities still spoke the old Gotan language, rather than the common wide-spread Albinian concoction. Some of them felt that the ruler of Gotan was not true enough to tradition, not having even been born in Gotan, and they resented him for his disrespect of the centuries old traditions and customs.

When the main door opened again, everyone got to their feet, believing it was the ruler of Gotan. But, as it were, it was not. It was Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen. They were walking one beside the other, her expression serious, looking around herself arrogantly as she swept in. In the few hours she had to share with her brother before the dinner, she found out all she wanted to know about Gangar and he found out everything he wanted to know about Quentaa. And they have realized that they have been given these missions to test their natural talents in the world, to expand their knowledge, but above all, it was obvious that each of their journeys had been carefully planned. Tammutyen could not have gone to the land of Quentaa without boring himself to tears and would find her task infernally dull and difficult, and Tarralyanna would have never fit in with the warriors of Gangar.

The Droddians thought that she, too, must have Droddian blood in her veins as well as the great warrior who led them here, because of the colour of her hair. But they have never seen the violet colour before, except in the skies, nor did they have a special word for it, except for 'the sky'. Violet was a colour which could not have been found in the land of Gangar, and most of the warriors, who have never ventured beyond the Land of Blood, have never seen it anywhere else except in the great vault of violet. What puzzled them was the fact she was walking beside Lord Tammutyen, who did not allow anyone to walk beside him, except for the Chief. Thus they drew the only logical conclusion they could – that she was his wife.

The eyes of the King of Quentaa followed the bulky figure of the Sith knight with nervous anticipation. He was exactly how the King imagined a Sith knight should look like, before he met Lady Tarralyanna – a strong man, a remorseless man, someone who did not know the meaning of fear and guilty conscience. This tall Sith exactly matched the description.

Without a word, the two ascended the stairs to the black table and stood over their chairs for a moment, glancing over it as though wondering whether they were allowed to sit down, but at length they did and started whispering to each other. Where was the ruler of Gotan, everyone asked themselves, unable to resist glancing in the direction of the pair?

The door opened once again and the cloaked, hooded figure of the ruler of Gotan swept in, his robes swirling behind him like a shadow. There was no mistaking his quick pace, his fashion of walking bolt upright, the way he moved his long, thin fingers as though he was trying to shake something off. He glanced over the tables quickly in his passing and climbed the stairs to the black table where his apprentices were sitting, his cloak brushing against the ancient stone. The two Sith got to their knees, to the surprise of Quentaanians and the revolt of the warriors of Gangar. The great warrior bent his head low, reaching out for it with his fingers and giving them a tentative caress, like a man who is afraid that the ruler would not allow it. The ruler of Gotan spoke to them in a few quick, soft words, nodding, after what they slowly got to their feet and sat down.

"Chief of Gangar and King of Quentaa," he spoke in a loud, booming voice, spreading his arms.

AS he walked in, the two Sith perceived a change in his attitude. It was almost as though they could feel he brought an important decision, and there was an air of finality about his tardy appearance they could not overlook.

"I should very much appreciate if you could translate for your people," said the ruler of Gotan, addressing the two rulers. The both of them quickly nodded, not considering to ask someone else to do it. They also felt there was something utterly important, something grave and sinister the ruler of Gotan wanted to discuss with them, which was the reason for this unusual summons. The Albinians and Droddians have not been in such a number in the same room since the signing of the peace treaty after the War, and even that nearly went awry.

"You will forgive me for my secretiveness," he spoke on, in a voice that easily echoed the hall, still standing over the table. "This is an unusual summons, something unheard of, I am well aware. But the legend is coming to life, and you will come to know it, all of you. This is a great occasion, and I do not wish to ruin it with speeches on empty stomachs. Thus I desire to ask of you to bear with your impatience and curiosity for a little while longer. Until then, my honoured guests, I want you all to enjoy the sumptuous feast I have arranged for you."

The ruler of Gotan clapped his hands loudly, and Malaskian slaves began to pour in through the door, carrying trays and plates, cauldrons and bowls, flagons and ewers. The Quentaanians were thrilled to see all of their favourite food being placed before them; soups, goulashes, paprikashes, gravies, all of these dishes were native to their land, and yet they were somehow different. The Droddians awaited the roasted mountain boars dripping with blood with appreciative roars, as it was an animal that did not normally live in their land, but looked extremely tasty, without an ounce of fat. They filled up their goblets with blood-red wine eagerly and started eating without further ado.

The Dark Lord was smiling softly at the sight and gracefully reached out for the silver platter placed before him. The two Sith waited patiently for him to start eating, palms placed on the table. However, they were used to using the Force while eating. Lady Tarralyanna, who already lifted her hand to levitate the bowl with salt, quickly lowered it, unsure whether she was allowed to do that or not. Tammutyen cast a warning glance at her and quickly passed it over to her across the table. They cast aside glances at the Dark Lord, watching his ringed hand reach out for his chalice. If he was not using the Dark side for anything, they should follow his example.

The Droddians were getting louder by every minute, enjoying their boars and giving loud roars of appreciation when a goat was brought in, thumping with their knives against the table and cheering. The Quentaanians were casting shocked and angry glances at them, but then again, they did not have a chance to really feel angry and give it a lot of thought, as they were too busy sampling food. Lord Tammutyen was wondering over and over again when the issue of his slip with the sword would come up. He dreaded it and went over and over again through the fight in his mind, trying to think of something else his Master might bring up. 'We make mistakes to learn from them,' his Master told him when he was a boy. 'To advance, to replace a weaker link with a stronger one, and sometimes it is necessary for us to make mistakes – for some lessons can only be learned in such a way.'

At long last, after what seemed like an eternity, Tammutyen smoking absently across his Lady Tarralyanna, his hands reaching out for the ashtray as though guiltily, wondering whether the Dark Lord would mind his smoking, the Dark Lord stood up once again and environed the table slowly. The murmur quickly died away. He clasped his hands, for a moment thoughtful, and it was obvious that whatever he had to say were not empty words of welcome.

"You have been invited to bear witness to what has been inevitable for many years," he said slowly. "I am afraid I need to confess that I have not been entirely truthful with you."

He lifted his glance, his dark eyes gleaming fanatically. Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen sat bating their breaths. He would not tell them... would he?

"I have come to the throne because the late king was very fond of me, and he had no male heirs. But I have been too young to rule a land as vast and as difficult to rule as Gotan is. His death was sudden and unexpected, and I could not bear with the responsibility. Thus, as you know, I have left a guardian in charge of the throne, and gave in to roaming. But I have not roamed the world to enjoy the company of beautiful women and drink, contrary to what most of you thought."

Some laughed, but the Chancellor and the general were as white as the best wheaten bread before them. The ruler of Gotan himself was smiling.

"Oh, no," he said a little more softly, "I have gone to Gnath, driven by curiosity."

Many gasped, but the greatest revelation, Lady Tarralyanna felt, was yet to come. She was paler than usual, the jewel on her forehead trembling, whereas Lord Tammutyen was squeezing his cigar with his fingers harder than it was necessary, his mouth twitching.

"And there I have met with my destiny," the ruler of Gotan went on, now pausing in his pacing and turning to face the people. He was deadly serious. "I have fallen asleep in the safety of of a cave, to avoid the flowing lava. I have been exhausted and I did not have a lot of food to spare any more. However, something woke me in the dead of night. A voice called to me… a spirit visited me, and made himself visible before me, shimmering, otherworldly, frightening. He said that he had been waiting for me for a very long time; and he took me to the place where he had dwelt for the last few centuries."

No one was laughing any more, and the animosity between the two races was on no man's mind as they stared at the tall figure of the ruler of Gotan and listened to his fantastic story.

"Not many know that I have come to Gotan with a teacher, who taught me combat techniques and the ways of the Force," he went on, ignoring their shocked faces. "It is because of my skill and my wisdom that I was favoured by the late king, and was made an heir to his throne. But the spirit that appeared unto me in the boiling lands of Gnath has showed me my true destiny, something beyond anything I have ever dreamt of. His name was Lord Ka'Th'Spaa and he was the Dark Lord of the Sith of the Second Age."

Now the curiosity got replaced with panic, for no one would have dared to utter the name of the ancient Sith Lord, even if they have known it (only one among them knew it, and the same was sitting with his mouth-half open, his white hair standing up as though electrified due to constant nervous scratching of his head). Rumours have been passed from father to son for centuries, rumours about horrors which lurked in the land of Gnath, or the accursed land, as many called it. And now they were confirmed.

"I have spent many years in the land of Gnath, following his teachings, rising above the pitiful creature that I was, confused and torn between my emotions, unable to bear the burden of my fate," the ruler went on, his voice cutting through the exclamations and noise that temporarily filled the hall at the mention of the name of the Sith Lord, but which died away as soon as he spoke again.

"And when he dismissed me, saying that I have learned all that I could from him, and melted with the Dark side at last, I came back to Gotan and reclaimed my throne. My secret was safe and I have kept it well. I have thus built a mansion, far away from prying eyes and ears, at the place where sky and land meet, away from the Force eyes of the Jedi, and there I have lived alone, exercising my powers and perfecting my skills."

"But my destiny was not to live alone and hide for the rest of my mortal life, to let my knowledge wither away within my mind, no," the ruler of Gotan went on. "I have been entrusted with the destiny of the Sith Order, of our ways and of the ways of the Dark side. I had to find students worthy of receiving the secrets of the ancient Sith, and I have embarked upon a journey again, travelled far and wide, in search of such individuals, to fulfil the last wish of my Master. And, years later, I have found them, and brought them to my mansion to be trained in the Dark side."

Slowly, he turned to look at the two Sith, who bowed their heads, aware of the strange tension in the air that was building up. Chief Growthak would never allow his horror to show, as it was beyond his honour, and the King of Quentaa respected the ruler of Gotan far too much to ever betray his trust by acting against him. But neither of them could conceal the startled, shocked expressions as they followed their friend and advisor with their glances as he once again fell to pacing, his hands on his back. Never before had he seemed so distant, so cold, so… unlike himself. Or perhaps this was his true self? If he could have kept a secret like that for so long, perhaps they did not know him at all.

"I did not have any secret agenda as I made friends with you, or when I offered my help to you," he said, as though reading their thoughts. "I have always considered you to be charismatic, great rulers and leaders of your people, and I have sincerely enjoyed your company. Now, perhaps, I shall ask for a bit more."

"The Jedi Order, as soon as they perceive the Dark side, shall dispatch spies to try and find us. Undoubtedly they would want to destroy us, me and my students," the ruler of Gotan said softly, almost sadly. "To destroy the centuries of work and knowledge, that resides within our minds, within the walls of my mansion. My students have been taught very thoroughly, since they were little children, unlike me – which is one of the reasons why I have sent them to bring you to Gotan, to ascertain yourselves of it, to see their talent and to get to know them."

"Lady Tarralyanna acted upon my orders and showed you the power of the Dark side, what she can do, and how little effort it would require to deliver you of all your troubles, my good king," he nodded at the King of Quentaa, whereas Tarralyanna smiled at his praise, as this was the first time he mentioned her work since she came back home. "And Lord Tammutyen did not show you the power of the Dark side – he showed you the power of his training, without the aid of the Force, and what he can do, a warrior he has become. I daresay it takes very little imagination to conceive what he can do with the use of the Force."

The corner of Tammutyen's mouth twitched and the cigar trembled in his hand.

"The question that remains unanswered is how I have been concealing my identity," the ruler of Gotan went on, giving a crooked smile, which could be often seen on the faces of his students, as he was not only their teacher and guardian, but a person to whom they looked up to. These were the exact king's thoughts, and he stared at him unblinkingly.

"The Dark Lord hears your thoughts," added the ruler softly, stunning them with his proclamation. "Concealing power is a skill the Jedi will never understand. For they are too weak, for they cannot control their own thoughts, let along their minds. They would never be able to withstand the destructive power of the Dark side."

"Now, I shall offer you a choice," he went on in a colder voice. He glanced over the deadly silent hall and lifted his chin. "You can go back to your kingdoms, to your domains, swear to me you would keep my secret, and you will never have to have anything to do with me. I shall let you go, for I respect you as my friends and companions. I cannot deny it would sadden me. But you are all people of free will. Or… you can stay and stand by me, hear my proposals, and partake in my great plans. The choice is yours."

No one moved. If there was any intention on the part of either of the rulers, they did not show it. They remained sitting where they were, staring blankly at the Dark Lord, who patiently waited with his hands on his back, standing quite still and gazing out of the window, as though wishing to give them a few moments to consult with their country people, what neither of them did. He cast a glance over his shoulder, at his students, and then nodded at them without a word. But they understood.

"I have been concealing my power for years," he said quietly. "But now I shall show it to all of you, to satisfy your curiosity and to destroy your doubt which is only natural in these circumstances, as I delivered something as fantastic to you as I have just now. Do you want that? A display is merely a display, and no harm will come to any of you, I can assure you."

His glance bored into the two rulers, as he looked from one to the other, at what they, not knowing any better, slowly nodded. The Dark Lord nodded back, then pulling down his hood slowly and exposing his pale face, his noble features and his long, gleaming black hair. Tarralyanna and Tammutyen knew he ought to be nearly fifty Albinian years old, but he did not looked a day older than thirty.

He closed his eyes. Tarralyanna and Tammutyen were holding hands almost frantically, because even they did not know what he was about to do. His mind was an iron fortress, and his power was a barely perceivable whisper beneath the cloak of his restraint. But now it virtually exploded, as he let the cloak fall and opened himself fully to the Force.

The torches flared up to the stone ceiling and the Droddians, the bravest of all races, stared up at them with fear etched in every dark line of their faces. The Dark Lord's cloak rose around him, as a wind surrounded him like a twirl, conjured up out of thin air; roar of the Dark side rose from its depths, and roiled, thundered through the Dark Lord, rearing up like an angry snake. The hall, despite of the awesome lighting it now had, went eerily dark, an unnatural chill spreading like a disease through every creature present, crawling under their skins, grinding their bones and bewitching their minds, filling them with horror and inaudible whispering, the clammy hands of the Dark side reaching out to them. The king of Quentaa felt as though he could not sit any more and was shaking in his chair, grabbing the table for support and gasping for air. The world went dark, and all that remained was the figure of the Dark Lord, booming, roaring without a voice, reaching out to them, his inaudible voice finding its way into the minds of all present, an eerie shadow that made their skin crawl. The king of Quentaa thought he were going to burst into millions of pieces if the ruler of Gotan did not stop with whatever the was doing.

But to Tarralyanna and Tammutyen, their Master was once again a vortex of power and they cut their curious use of the Force to look at him through their physical eyes. It was almost as though he did not exist at all as an individual, but lived for his mission and to fulfil his destiny. He had no desires, he had no drives or motives, no name, but the name he had been given by the Dark side, which he served.

The floor shook as deep rumbling rose from the depths of the Dark side, now manifesting in the physical world. The Dark Lord lifted his palms a little, still immersed in the Dark side; it was a sort of a trance, the Sith knew, to display one's power like that, and perhaps the Dark Lord was not aware of what he was doing. But when the power slowly began to ebb away, swallowed by him, the dark twirl going back to whence it came. The king of Quentaa slid down the chair to his knees, still trembling and unable to tear his glance away from the ruler of Gotan. The whole fifty of his countrymen, his servants, followed his example. Chief Growthak got to his feet with feigned strength, his legs trembling awfully, and got to his knees as well in a clank of weaponry, his long black hair swaying. When the Dark Lord opened his eyes again, the whole hall was kneeling before him.

For a moment it seemed as though he could not remember how it came to this; but then his glance found his students, who were staring back at him fearlessly and he nodded at them, giving them a soft smile.

"This is who I truly am," he spoke in an unnaturally powerful voice, glancing over them. "So now you know. You remained here, with me, and with my students, and thus I take you are with me. Your loyalty shall be valued highly, I can assure you. As my students learned, I am unforgiving and merciless when I smell treachery and disobedience; but they found me very reasonable when my orders were followed to the word, praising them for exceptional efforts and standing behind them as a guardian when the circumstance demanded that of me. You, who did not flee before me when I have shared this secret with you, who remained loyal, and swore that you would keep my secret I shall receive the same treatment."


	14. Chapter 13 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

This is the second part of the previous chapter. The Dark Lord establishes an alliance and while they are discussing everything, they get a piece of disturbing news.

Again, if there are mistakes, please ignore them. The chapters have not been corrected.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XIII - Allies

In the morning, the two Sith appeared in the training hall right on schedule. Tarralyanna sat on the floor, pulling her gloves on and adjusting her Saragon. Tammutyen beamed at her and took the Ptah out of its scabbard, glancing critically over its razor-sharp blades. The deadly silence of the marble training hall was now filled with whooshes of the Saragon's spheres, which Tarralyanna began spinning slowly. Ten with her one hand, ten with her other hand, and then with both, leaning forward, leaning backward, after what she let them fall, accompanied by a loud clank of the chain connecting them. Her back felt completely sore after spending the night with Tammutyen. Annoyed, she lifted the Saragon again and began turning it around her head with greater force with her eyes closed, alternating the height and checking what she was doing through the eyes of the Force. She started turning around herself while spinning it, the Saragon now gracefully whizzing up and down through the air, in perfect spirals, in perfect rhythm – this was an exercise she had been doing for over ten years, every day. She let it drop once again and leaned forward to adjust her boots, looking up to see Lord Tammutyen spin the Ptah in his one hand with the blades almost brushing off the floor, lifting up his elbow and lowering it, which was an exercise devised to perfect his control over the circular motion of the sword.

Tarralyanna pulled up her trousers, scoffing with her feet to test how slippery the floor was and sprinkling sand over the black marble. By that time, Tammutyen was already standing ready for the first b'daar. Tarralyanna nodded at him and stepped aside. They always took turns with the b'daars to allow each other full manoeuvring space and avoid conflicts within the Force. The time in between they would use to do strength exercises, and after his first b'daar Tammutyen was hanging upside down from a rope by his feet, lifting himself up and down. He thought back about his battle with the Droddian warriors. He chose the third b'daar, which was devised for fighting against many enemies at once, but then switched to the seventh, following his intuition. What was odd about it was that the seventh b'daar was not exactly suitable for fighting more than three opponents, but it was dynamical and suitable for fighting against opponents who had more than one weapon in hand. And surprisingly, it proved extremely efficient. Tammutyen had never used a b'daar against an actual opponent, and he was startled with their effectiveness.

By the time they reached number twelve, Tarralyanna longingly thinking about coffee, their Master appeared by the doorway, standing with his hands crossed on his chest, watching wordlessly. Cloaked in the Dark side, they never perceived him coming, but noticed him only when they looked around, and saw him standing there. They twitched to get to their knees, but the Dark Lord waved his hand and nodded at them.

"Continue," he said curtly.

He had a very unpleasant habit of turning up when they expected him the least. A few times he appeared in their chambers, inspecting them, and he came to the library often; there was, however, nothing they could do to predict his behaviour.

He did not remark on their performance, and simply sat there in the corner, watching them. When they finished, Tammutyen grabbed a large towel and rubbed his chest with it, whereas Tarralyanna dropped down on the floor to stretch.

"Undoubtedly you wish to know why I have uncloaked myself before so many people," said the Dark Lord quietly, examining his robes.

"Now we have two very powerful allies," he said, glancing from one to the other, Tarralyanna drinking water but staring at him with the tail of her eye as she drank.

"Oh, yes. The King of Quentaa and Chief Growthak have decided to stand by me. This out of fear, naturally, which is principally why I have chosen to uncloak myself before them. I knew they would not simply run away and betray me. They owe too much to me. What they felt and the name of my late master, which I stated on purpose, made them realised that if it comes to war, they would have to choose a side. And so they have."

War, thought Tammutyen, staring at his Master?

"Yes, war, Tammutyen," the Dark Lord answered his thoughts. "And when the time comes, I promise you a few Jedi to amuse yourself with."

Tammutyen's eyes flashed. The very thought made his skin prickly with excitement.

"Thank you, my Master," he said quietly. "I would like that very much."

"But for the time being, suffice it to say that I have confirmed what Tarralyanna told me," said the Dark Lord, turning to look at her. "A Jedi has heard us. And she is investigating. I have my sources."

"But she poses no threat, even if she locates us and comes here," he said, waving off with his hand carelessly. "The Jedi Order has chosen to be ignorant for the time being and they would rather die than confess they are wrong. How very stupid, do you not think so, my apprentices?"

Tammutyen let out his famous contemptuous snort, while Tarralyanna simply shook her head and smiled.

"So, this leaves us very busy with planning, we need to discuss everything with our new allies and decide on our further course of action. But once the wheel starts turning, and it has, it will be impossible to stop it."

"Master, may I ask something?" said Tarralyanna tentatively, lifting a hand in the air as her Master fell silent. She would not interrupt him, of course.

"Of course, my apprentice," he answered.

"It is a little unclear to me, how your master was able to teach you," she said in a clear voice, as he always taught her to be firm about her opinion and voice it aloud. "How is that possible, that his spirit was still present on this plane? How is it, that he did not pass into the Dark side?"

The Dark Lord seemed impressed with her question and for a moment, he said nothing. Then he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"As you know, the spirits of those who die a violent death and leave a lot of unfinished work on this world often remain here," he said softly. "But my master vowed to himself that he would rise from the grave to fulfil his purpose. He had no chance of finding an apprentice while he lived and as his body died, his spirit remained behind. It had been the will of the Dark side. However, when my training was complete, he finally melted with the Dark side."

"Tammutyen had a short near-death experience," he went on, casting an aside glance at the Sith knight. "You remember the state of dwelling neither here nor there, do you, my apprentice? And what was it that forced you to go back?"

"You," Tammutyen answered. "My duty to you. My duty to the Order. My destiny... I had no chance to learn what it was. But above all, it seemed cowardly to me. Dying, to me, even though I was greatly tempted, felt like letting go."

"Exactly," said the Dark Lord, smiling broadly at him. "And that experience, although it made you who you are now, was the turning point of your life. How do you feel now about what I have done to you? I have decided on your destiny and made you who you are now. There were times you hated me for it."

"I could never really hate you," answered Tammutyen quietly. "And I assume there is a reason why you chose to resurrect me in that way."

"It had to happen," the Dark Lord said. "But my chosen way of resurrection made you who you are. You are like a tall ship, Tammutyen – it sails with great force toward its destination. But the hard part it to turn it around. One needs a great storm or a very cunning navigator to do just that. I have known it would happen for many months before it did; it brought me great unease, to know what is to come to pass, and yet knowing that I ought not meddle with the ways of the Dark side, for what it has it stall for you. I had to allow it; and I have chosen my course of action beforehand. I have even consulted with my master on the issue."

"You… have?" whispered Tarralyanna, unable to help herself.

"Oh, yes," said the Dark Lord, nodding, "He is no longer a spirit, but a part of the Force; but his voice speaks to his apprentice, when he calls to him, because it is his duty to guide me and lead me; because we are bound together, and this bond runs deeper than blood and flesh, it runs beyond this world. The great Dark Lord Ka'Th'Spaa advised me readily; and I have taken your life in my hands, Tammutyen."

"After all these years I can say I am grateful for it, my Master," said Tammutyen. "And my body served me well back in Gangar."

"I am well aware of that," said the Dark Lord. "And we shall discuss your tactical mistakes and strokes of inspiration after your training tomorrow. But I must tell you that drinking your sister's blood ought not to be done in great amounts, nor often. For it is too strong for you, and although I am certain that it is invigorating and fascinating for you, it can also turn into poison."

"I noticed that, my Master," he said very quietly.

"And consequently," said the Dark Lord, getting to his feet and taking them by surprise with this gesture, "I have left a little something for you in your chambers, Tarralyanna. For future use. I have given myself unto serious study of your anatomy and constitution, Tarralyanna, and devised this remedy for you. It should be taken only when you feel exceptionally physically weak – it will strengthen you and your blood."

"Oh..." whispered Tarralyanna. "Thank you, my Master." He studied her constitution?

"Now, for you, route number three, and for Tammutyen, route number eight. You may go and fetch your running clothes, and I shall be waiting for you with the hourglass. Off you go."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

The use of the Force was explicitly forbidden during their running sessions, and soon (or ages later, it felt to the two Sith) Tarralyanna was leaning against a pillar leading to the Temple with her eyes closed, little silver stars erupting in her eyelids, feeling as though she was going to faint. Tammutyen had assumed a little more dignifying pose, but he could not hide that he was exhausted.

"You are a minute late," said the Dark Lord, turning over his formidable hourglass, the device they used to dread when they were children. "Which means you shall be doing this tomorrow again. All this travelling has obviously taken its toll. Now you may go and have your breakfast and I shall be expecting you at the Court in two hours. We are meeting the Chief and King of Quentaa. Wear clean sad'khai and you may take your weapons with you."

"Yes, Master," the both of them panted, exchanging a glance as the Dark Lord swept back into the Temple, his black cloak gently brushing off the snow that accumulated at the entrance.

Sad'khai was the traditional Sith clothing, consisting of black shirts that tied at the front and matching trousers, tucked in boots as to offer the Sith more freedom of movement. Little Tarralyanna and Tammutyen had worn them before they knew each other's name and learned how to tie the shirts around with the help of their nannies.

Their Master's talk of war had them all worked up and they could not cease thinking about it. What was he planning? Hopefully they would find out now. They emerged from their chambers, clean and perfumed, wearing their sad'khai and swept past Peetah without even noticing her, who bowed her head low before the two Sith, carrying Tarralyanna's washing in her hands, the large pile obscuring her head.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo 

"Here they come," announced the Chancellor, who was standing in the doorway and looking down the corridor leading to the small room where they had been waiting for the ruler of Gotan. The general was sitting at the table with his hands crossed before him, his expression gloomy and thoughtful; Chief Growthak was playing with his dagger and staring into the void ahead of him, whereas the king of Quentaa was trying to avoid his glance, or anyone's really, his head full of thoughts. What would he hear now? His insides went icy cold at the very thought. He agreed on this because he felt he had no choice; but the thought of what this is going to bring to him, filled him with cold dread.

The Dark Lord was walking ahead of his students, who followed him with their glances resting on the hem of his robes. They seemed rather lost in thought, thought the Chancellor. The Dark Lord swept into the chamber and everyone got to their feet as he did. The two Sith pulled down their hoods and looked around.

The Dark Lord hissed out a single word and pointed at the two chairs to his right and left. The two Sith quickly took their places, placing their palms upon the table as they did so. The Dark Lord looked as though he was surprised to see them honour this habit outside the Temple, but then he smiled and did the same. Of course; the only customs they knew of were those of the Sith. Silence accompanied this gesture, whatever it meant, and everyone patiently waited for the Dark Lord to speak.

"The gesture is a part of tradition," said the Dark Lord. No one expected an explanation and the Chancellor looked up with a look of surprise. "They are placing their hands on the table, where you can see them, to announce that they are not going to use the Force against you."

The Dark Lord turned in his seat to lift his hand and dimmed the torches with one quick sweep of the Dark side. The general swallowed. He was not used to seeing him do this. The King of Quentaa, although a little nervous, felt melancholic at the sight of his former friend and advisor. He grew to like and respect the ruler of Gotan, for his advice and understanding of his woes, for his help and his comforting visits to his land. And to see him sit before him, knowing he took the Dark path, filled his heart with chill and sadness.

"Now, then," said the Dark Lord, leaning forward and interlacing his fingers on the table. "I know that all of this makes you feel awkward, but I can assure you that nothing has changed. You have come to know me well after I have returned from Gnath; and I am still that same person. Only the time has come for me to come out in the open, and I can assure you that this offers me nothing but relief. I certainly did not like concealing things from you, but it had to be done. For the time was not right, and it would have only brought you trouble to find out the truth."

Can a Sith care about that? Can a Sith be compassionate, the king of Quentaa asked himself, sadness spreading through him? Now he did not know how to feel about his old friend any more, and he wondered whether the Sith knew the meaning of the word 'to feel' or 'to care' at all.

"Yes, we do," said the Dark Lord quietly, directing a quick knowledgeable glance and a smile at him. "And if you want proof, all you have to remember is how I stood by you and advised you all these years. But the truth changes everything, does it not? This is the main reason why I kept you in the dark. For I knew you would feel exactly like this, and that you would run away from me as though I was bearing sickness. I am no monster, or a madman; I hope that my long friendship with you is convincing enough."

The King of Quentaa was left speechless as the ruler of Gotan revealed his deepest and most intimate thoughts and bowed his head instead, unable to bear the piercing glance of those dark eyes. The Dark Lord nodded a little, more to himself, as though agreeing with himself on something, and then waved a careless hand. Goblets landed in front of everyone, with flagons filled with wine screeching to a halt right in the middle of the table.

"Last year's Ice Wine," he said. "From the grapes in the Royal garden."

Everyone felt compelled to fill their goblets, and they could not fail to notice that Lady Tarralyanna filled the Dark Lord's.

"M'Nim'ya," she muttered, calling him 'master' in Sith, to what he replied with a quick nod, not looking at her.

"There are a few Jedi who have heard us; we have given the Dark side a powerful shake some weeks ago, when I have been teaching my students in the mountains, away from my mansion," said the Dark Lord, after taking a sip of his wine. "But even if they locate us, they pose no threat, so do not dwell on it. My apprentices shall take care of them."

There was something in his tone that stung the King of Quentaa straight in the heart; the coldness, with which he said this, clearly implicated that he ordered his students to mercilessly kill any Jedi that might show his face in Gotan, but although this was understandable, what stung him was not the content of his order. It was the carelessness and chilling calmness with which he said it.

"I shall consider you as my allies in this," the Dark Lord went on. "And what this encompasses might change. But for starters, I shall ask of you to welcome any Jedi that might show his or her face in your land and to gather as much information as you can. What they are doing, where they are going, why are they in your land. How you do this, I shall leave to you. But it is crucial that the Jedi Order does not suspect anything, even though there are some individuals who are fancying themselves to be heroes and crusaders against evil, the Sith, that is. After you question them, you will let them go. You will not harm them."

He was looking pointedly in Chief Growthak's direction, and that of his two Seniors, who were staring at the Dark Lord blankly as he spoke, and who now nodded seriously. He understood. And he knew at once how to do this. Gangar has never seen a greater warrior than Chief Growthak; but it has never seen a more cunning and ingenious warrior either. As the Droddians were not exactly famous for their intellect, it was not exactly surprising to see a warrior like Growthak take the helm.

"At the same time, I want you to make a list of able men of war in each of your lands," the Dark Lord went on, staring at his fingers, and glancing over his nails, twiddling with his numerous, heavy rings. "This has to be done in utmost secretiveness and quiet; dispatch your men to the rims of your land, and have them make a list of men, of weaponry, gather all data as it is done before starting a war. There shall be no war." he lifted up his palm at what everyone jerked, thinking that he was going to use the Dark side once again, what the Dark Lord greeted with a crooked, amused smile, "Yet. But I like to know where I stand."

"What are my intentions?" he echoed the Chief Growthak's thoughts, who opened his mouth at this, but shut it immediately, wondering how many times he had done this to him in the past, without him realising it. "I shall tell you. My good friend's land is being eaten from inside by barbarians, and the Jedi do not lift a finger." He was looking in the King's direction. "The Jedi Order acts against the Droddian race, treating them as inferior, and my good friend's trade with meat decreases drastically. His country is invaded by petty traders who seek to smuggle meat across the border, and make their own profit, damaging people's earnings and chances for normal living. The Jedi Order is allowed to go to Lateen, and receive goods from the Caelians, and their help. But no one else is and they are unwilling to trade. They keep their secrets within the walls of the Jedi Temple, and they help no one, although non-selfishness and compassion are their mottoes; they call themselves servants of the people of Horukaan, but they only serve themselves. The selfish and terrible Sith has helped you clean the streets of you capital town in three days, my good King. When has a Jedi done the same?"

The King of Quentaa had nothing to say to this, but was silently nodding, thinking intently.

"Under this mask of good-heartedness and helpfulness, the Jedi are granted many things from the people of Horukaan; the Jalá ore, which is rightfully owned by the Droddian race; the best horses from the land of Montague, which are rightfully the heritage of the Albinians living there and which are given to the Jedi as a token of their good will. And speaking of the Force… all of the Jedi who tried to work with the Dark side have been dragged into the Temple and brainwashed, destroyed. All because of their fear before it; all because they despise the Sith and what we stand for. They would kill my apprentices on sight, if they would find out they had been trained in the Dark side. They would look at them and see terrible beasts, wearing the colour of darkness and formidable weapons, and their fear before something and someone more powerful than they are, would bereave them of their legs and reason, and drive them to murder, justifying it by saying it had been done for a good cause. We do not have such moral values and we would never act against our Code, covering it up so hypocritically with good intentions. Now, I do not think, Sith or not, that anyone alive can blame me for ordering my apprentices to kill any Jedi daring to set foot into my land."

The Dark Lord's anger was now quite palpable, and the torches were flickering in a highly disturbed fashion. Both rulers had to agree with him on all points, but were anxiously stealing glances of their surrounding, as though afraid that the whole chamber might burst into flames if the Dark Lord would not calm down.

"First and foremost, I am here to bring my master's vision to life, to bring the lost honour and glory back to the Dark side and celebrate its power without fear of being destroyed. I am here to see the rise of the Sith Order and its flourish. But at the same time, I will not deny that I yearn for vengeance against the Jedi Order for the years of prosecution, for the centuries forced to spend in hiding. They are supported from the nations of Horukaan because of they say they are 'the warriors of light' and 'seekers of truth'; I wish only a small part of it was true. But how can one expect to receive help from a person who is not a complete master of himself, who spends days in idling and then gives himself such flashy titles? I shall not deny that I want to destroy them."

He paused a little, staring at the table before him, with Tammutyen's eyes glinting with excitement as they rested upon him; with fanatical, mad excitement only the mention of killing some Jedi could evoke in him.

"But you shall find that I have not taught my apprentices to hate, as I myself do not feel it either; I have taught them to understand things, to understand how weak the Jedi are, and how superficial their understanding of the Dark side really is, to pity them for their incapability and their weakness."

"As you can see, for the time being, I am not asking something that you cannot do of you, nor something that would demand public proclamations of any kind," he said, leaning aback and rearranging his black robes. Come to think of it, the King of Quentaa mused, he had never seen him wear anything but black, and he always considered this to be a little odd, a little unusual, but then concluded that the ruler of Gotan simply thought he looked best in black. He was a man of style, who appreciated jewellery and embroidered, luxurious robes and cloaks, each a masterwork of its own. "But I consider you my allies. In return, you shall receive my help and my support, and I shall send my apprentices to your lands on various assignments, if I see they are needed. This is my promise and you may rest assured that they shall perform their tasks flawlessly."

"I shall not ask you to sign any kind of treaty," the Dark Lord said, hearing the thoughts of one of the King's advisers, who flinched. "I trust your word. But bear in mind, at the same time, that I know. The Dark side reaches across space and your thoughts are an open book to me, wherever you are, whatever you are doing."

oooooooooooooo

Soon they spread the maps of both lands across the table, and were leaning over them, discussing tactical positions and systems of defence. The two rulers were stunned to realise that the Dark Lord knew all there was to know about the defence systems in their lands, and was now merely issuing orders and offering his opinion on certain points, all of which they agreed upon, for it seemed to be utter foolishness to try to counter him. He was no longer the modest, timid ruler of Gotan with an inexplicable notorious reputation of a merciless man – now he was acting who he really was, the Dark Lord of the Sith, and his opinion, although stated as an opinion, was in fact a clear order.

Tarralyanna and Tammutyen were leaning over the maps, too, listening intently, and memorising everything they heard. From time to time the Dark Lord would spill out a sentence in Sith to them and they would nod seriously. Chief Growthak's eyes travelled over Tammutyen with admiration; he proved himself in Gangar in one way a person could acquire respect and honour among Droddians – in battle. And in battle he was indeed a formidable sight. He decided to ask the Dark Lord whether he could teach some of his warriors a few tricks.

Three hours later, Lady Tarralyanna let out a gasp and grabbed the table. Silence fell on the hall and the eyes of the Dark Lord fixed upon her. He waved a fierce hand and everyone froze, staring at her. Her usually brilliant sapphire eyes were now glassy and seemed to be directed at nothing in particular. The Dark Lord got to his feet, coming behind her and putting his finger to his lips, indicating that everyone should be silent and quite still.

"M'Nim'ya!" she whispered in a hoarse, terrible voice. The Dark Lord placed a gentle hand on her shoulder from behind and she seemed to relax. She was sitting like this for eternity, it seemed to everyone; her breathing was quick and painful, and her eyelids were flickering as though she was trying to look with her eyes closed. The Dark Lord was standing quite still, with his one hand on her shoulder, staring at the top of her head. At long last, she jerked out of her trance, and jumped in her seat, turning around to look at her Master.

The Dark Lord smiled encouragingly at her, although it was obvious he was impatient and then nodded, tapping her gently on the shoulder and withdrawing his hand. She closed her eyes again, along with him. Tammutyen was glancing from one to the other, knowing better than to meddle in, and resisting the urge to try to include himself in this, as it was obvious that Lady Tarralyanna was retelling the Dark Lord what she had seen. At long last, the hand of the Dark Lord lifted from the back of her chair and he swept away his cloak with a fierce movement. His every feature was thick with anger. Tarralyanna was staring at him with her eyes wide, following his every movement, her chest still heaving up and down. Tammutyen slowly pushed his goblet with wine toward her. No one dared to say a word, neither the Sith, nor the others.

The Dark Lord was pacing for a few moments, immersed in thought. At last he paused, turned to Tarralyanna and whispered out a harsh-sounding sentence to her, at what she took the goblet in her hand and started drinking, as he told her.

"Lady Tarralyanna is a talented seer," he said at last, in a soft tone that did not match his mood. "She has visions often. The heroes on quest I have spoken of have entered the land of Gnath, searching for the source of the Dark side they felt."

Then he gave an eerie, throaty laugh which made everyone's hair stand on its end. Although he was a teacher to the two Sith and they spent years and years with him, they still feared him and to see him angry was not exactly a very welcome sight. This laugh of his, thought the King of Quentaa, embodied the evil that dwelt within him, which he was now finally free to express and allow it to show.

"Let them search," he said, still laughing. "Should they find the Lord Ka'Th'Spaa's last dwelling-place, they will most certainly never come back alive. The power of the Dark side dwells within it, power which they cannot fight."

Chief Growthak visualised great, strong statues that would seize the intruder by the neck and snap it in two; whereas the king of Quentaa visualised terrible demons with red eyes. Neither of them were exactly far off from the truth. The Dark Lord did not remark further on this and merely sat down, chuckling to himself and leaning once again over the maps and getting to work, as though nothing happened.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

When everything necessary had been discussed, the Dark Lord excused himself and left the table, ordering his apprentices to remain with the Chief and the King of Quentaa. They knew he went to make a definite plan what was going to be done concerning the Jedi and perhaps even to speak to his own master about it.

"Lord Tammutyen," said the Chief, his eyes glinting upon the sight of him, who was now letting off large clouds of smoke across the table. Lady Tarralyanna seemed thoughtful and was stirring her tea absently. "Would it be impertinent of me to ask you to see your sword once again? The first and only time I have seen it was in battle; but then I have been on the balcony, and you were too far away for me to see clearly."

"Surely not, my Chief," said Tammutyen, cigar stuck between his teeth, reaching down for his Ptah and pulling it out of its scabbard. To the Chief's great delight, he handed it across the table to him. The Chief took it gently by the middle and the three Droddians leaned over it to see more closely. The King of Quentaa did not share their enthusiasm for lethal weapons and he looked away. His companions were drinking their wine with unease, casting glances in the direction of Lady Tarralyanna, as though afraid she might collapse.

("Are you all right now?") Tammutyen asked her softly in Sith.

("Yes, fine,") she answered in a trembling voice. ("The vision was so powerful... I have never felt anything like it.")

He was looking at her seriously while the three Droddians were inspecting the Ptah, completely oblivious to their muttering in Sith; the King of Quentaa, however, was watching them very carefully behind his goblet, which he raised in that moment to be able to look at them without being noticed.

("I suppose we gave the Force a good shake,") said Tammutyen slowly. ("And it almost seems as though the Dark side has chosen you as its prophet, so to speak.")

("You think so?") she asked, wide eyed.

("Mighty Darkness, I have no idea why I said that,") he said, giving a nervous laugh. He tapped his cigar over the ashtray and then took a long pull at it.

("You could be right, Tammutyen,)" she said, sitting bolt upright. ("The Dark side is showing me danger! Heart of Rage! Remember what was it last time? I saw the Jedi travelling and discussing the Dark side and the Sith Order. Is it… is it possible? Are those warnings?")

("I must be wiser than I thought,") he said, giving a snort.

At that moment the Chief leaned across the table and gave Tammutyen his Ptah back, holding it with a look of admiration on his dark face.

"It is magnificently light," he told him, his eyes glinting. "And it feels… special. Strong. Powerful."

"I daresay it has tapped in the power of the Dark side with frequent use," said Tammutyen, putting it back into its scabbard. "And it has to be light so that I can spin it around more easily."

The black bone in the middle was a dragon's bone and across it, if one would look more closely through the leather wrapped around it, there were inscriptions in scarlet. "_Mighty Darkness, take me in your arms; I give myself wholly unto you_," it read in Sith. Tammutyen's name was written along one of the blades. Legends of dragons were just legends, everyone thought; the Dark Lord, however, kept one at the Temple for his own purposes, for acquiring ingredients like their blood or claws, but also as a means of transportation. Dragons responded marvellously to the Dark side users and would devour anyone else who might dare to come close. Thus the dragon obeyed the Dark Lord even without any training, allured by his power and the aura of rage floating around him. The Dark Lord's thoughts were enough to direct the dragon when riding him and his speed was stunning. He was incredibly useful, the Sith agreed.

"Do you think, Lord Tammutyen," asked the Chief tentatively, "that you might teach me and a few of my warriors a few tricks?"

"It is not on me to decide, my Chief," answered Tammutyen. "You may propose it to my Master and see what he thinks of it. I cannot do anything without his approval. However, I should advise you let him be for the time being, until we know for certain what will become of these Jedi invading the Land of Gnath."


	15. Chapter 14 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

In this chapter we see bits and pieces of little Tammutyen's childhood and how he became what he is. I know that the idea is kind of old, but it fit in perfectly in my story (I needed it for the storyline).

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XIV – Creature of the Night

The long evening that the two rulers spent with the Sith evolved into a leisurely walk through the Royal Gardens, which were heated by torches. Tammutyen walked with the Chief, exchanging battle stories and legends, and these stories brought back memories of the time he almost died. Or did, as a matter of fact.

At the time he was fighting epic battles with his temper and trying desperately to master his emotions, to keep his anger in check and to be able to direct it. Needless to say, those few years were the worst few years of his life. Never before had he encountered so many locked doors, wherever he turned, and there were times he felt like banging his head against the wall. Tarralyanna's powers were flourishing, while he was stuck with his fears and doubts, with his temper and his natural inclination to irrational anger.

The fatal accident happened while he was working out in the training hall. He was practising with his Ptah and was doing exercises for balance control, which was the most important aspect of Ptah one had to learn to be able to use it. He got annoyed with his own failures and mistakes, and the angrier he got, the worse things were. Finally he left aside his Ptah and took up a sword, meaning to try to practise with it a little, to see the difference and then perhaps learn something from the experience that might help him in his work with the Ptah. At some point he spun the sword forcibly and jumped, meaning to catch it as he straightened up; he slipped, the sword turned over in the air and he landed on the sword, experiencing the worst pain in his life. He could feel painfully clear the steel running through his lungs and gasped for air. He remembered Tarralyanna running across the hall and kneeling down beside him, giving his head a quick caress and pulling out the sword with one mighty jerk. She did not know to how help him, but she remained composed, although her hands were trembling. She called desperately to the Dark Lord, but it was unnecessary. He barged into the training hall, his robes a black, blurry swirl behind him.

He knelt beside Tammutyen and pulled a small glass bottle out of his robes, quickly uncorking it. His hand lingered over his mouth, Tammutyen's quenching eyes staring at him from below, blood gushing out on his mouth. Tarralyanna had backed away, not saying a word. She knew very well that their lives belonged to her Master and that if he decided to kill either of them, that they should not try to fight back, even if they would stand a chance against power such as the Dark Lord possessed. Thus she sat on the floor shakily and stared at her Master.

"This will save your life, but it will change you forever," said the Dark Lord softly, as though he had all of the time in the world, Tammutyen's painful breathing echoing through the hall. "And it will be very painful."

Tammutyen said nothing, for even if he could, he did not know what to say to this. Instead, he seized the Dark Lord's hand with his own bloody one. Blood was pouring down his chin and all he managed to utter were three words in Sith.

("My Master…. Stay… with me.")

He desired nothing more but to have the Dark Lord beside him as he passed into the Dark side, but the Dark Lord shook his head and brought the bottle back to his lips.

("Swallow,") he commanded him firmly.

With the last of his strengths, Tammutyen swallowed the thick, smelly liquid which his Master poured into his mouth. At the same time, he felt it trickle down his stomach, where it literally exploded. It felt as though a hundred snakes were suddenly fighting to break free from the inside, as though his own body was going to explode. He screamed so loudly Tarralyanna flinched and her hands reached out for her ears unawares. Tarralyanna stared at him wordlessly; she did not dare to approach him while her Master was leaning over him, although she wished she could have said farewell to her companion. She believed that the Dark Lord gave him poison, to be able to die more quickly and painlessly.

Tammutyen's body writhed and wriggled, but the Dark Lord was holding him pinned down to the marble with the Dark side, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration, watching his student undergo this unspeakable agony without a flinch or a word. Tammutyen remembered the feeling as though it was yesterday. It felt like rotting while still alive, cell after cell, and he could not stop screaming; he felt like he was going to faint, until even worse pain washed over him, forcing him to remain conscious, and so it went on and on. His skin was rippling as though something was eating him from inside; a wave of destruction spread through his body, devouring his every organ and his every muscle. Later he believed that was how it felt to be burnt alive, but he was not sure.

At long last, his forehead bathing in sweat, his Master still kneeling unmovable beside him, the pain faded away, and was replaced by a feeling of sudden strength, which thundered through him, accompanied by the quick and fierce answer of the Dark side. His eyes opened with a start and fixed upon the Dark Lord as though tacitly asking what was going on, whether he was dead already. He felt life force roiling through him, combined with the powerful sweeps of the Dark side coming from the Dark Lord; and he drank it in, desperately, endlessly. He felt his lungs fill with air, and he breathed in deeply and desperately, taking a long, painful breath which echoed the marble hall. Tarralyanna sat more upright and stared at him, her eyes sparkling.

His breathing steadied and the Dark Lord now reached down and parted his shirt to reveal a horrible wound on his chest, right underneath his heart. But the wound was now healing itself before Tarralyanna's eyes, who crawled a little closer, hoping that the Dark Lord would not push her away. The flesh was growing with incredible speed pieces of skin grew steadily, until the wound closed at last. However, a deep, gruesome scar remained as a reminder of what happened that day.

"It had to be done, Tammutyen," said the Dark Lord quietly at last. "To save your life, it had to be done."

Tammutyen was breathing deeply now and tried to sit up, what he did with surprising ease. He passed with his hands over his chest, and then stared at his Master, eyes wide with horror. If there is something terrifying to a Sith, Tarralyanna told him the following day, then it is the sight of you being afraid. Tarralyanna always felt that Tammutyen simply could not feel any fear at all.

"What is… this, Master? How can I… I feel so good, so strong… am I dead?" he stuttered out, again passing with his hands over his chest, as though not believing it. Perhaps this is one of the Sith underworld's guardians' games, he thought; they would want to test me before they lead me through the gate and allow me to rest with the Dark side.

"The Sith of old knew the secrets of resurrection," said the Dark Lord, now getting to his feet. "It has a price, my apprentice. But bear in mind that this had to be done."

"But… what have you done to me?" asked Tammutyen, getting to his feet after he pinched himself very hard. It hurt.

"I have transformed you into something inhuman," said the Dark Lord, lifting up his chin, his dark eyes surveying him. "I have altered your anatomy, your blood and the way you function. Undoubtedly you will find that you will have less problems with your work now; by transforming you, I have annihilated most of the demons you have been struggling with. The anatomy of what you are now, of what I have made you, shall make it possible for you to heal even the most grievous wounds in a matter of days; and you will certainly find that very useful. But, as I said, it comes with a price."

"Do not intimidated by your new body and your senses," he continued. "Explore them."

"What am I, then, my Master?" asked Tammutyen in a hoarse voice, staring at him.

"The Sith of old called it 'the creature of the night'," said the Dark Lord slowly. The usual snappishness and firmness were gone. "And you will get to know yourself and master yourself, or you will die of my hand next time."

He swept out of the hall, leaving a stunning silence behind him. Tarralyanna launched herself on Tammutyen, squeezing him hard before she withdrew her head and gasped.

"You are… cold!" she exclaimed, "As though you are…"

"Dead?" he whispered in a hollow voice, still staring after his Master. "What is this… creature? Do you know?"

Of course she knew; she loved legends and myths and devoured all books on the subject, until there was not one book on it left to read in the library. She bit her lip and looked down on his naked chest. Tammutyen gripped her hard and fixed his glance upon her.

"It is a legend," she said quietly, frightened by his dark eyes and the look on his sweaty, bloody face. "I have never thought it could be true, that such creatures really exist! Master must know a lot about magic, if he could concoct a poison for transformation…"

"But what is this creature?" he hissed.

"They… live like we do, they prefer darkness and warmth. But… they do not eat food, they…" she whispered, shaking her head. He shook her again, and she got scared of his tight, inhuman grip on her upper arms that was making her arms go numb. "They drink blood, they do not eat."

"What?" he asked, staring at her.

"But Master will help you adjust, I am sure of it," she said quickly. He released her and pushed her away, his face contorted in anger, and stalked away, leaving a pool of blood behind him as a standing reminder of what just happened. She stared at him, at loss for words. "Tammutyen, please, you heard what he said…"

"I hope he kills me!" yelled Tammutyen in a powerful voice, turning to her. His cheeks were suddenly so pale that he looked like a corpse that remained in water for too long. "Because I am not going to spend the rest of my life drinking blood!"

oooooooooooooo

What he felt, all of the resentment to his Master for this, did not take long to culminate and explode, for it happened that very evening, after he spent a restless few hours during which he could not sleep at all, troubled and awakened by all of the different sensations and odd voices that suddenly started rushing through his mind. He crushed the jar filled with blood that was left on the table in his chambers when he came in with his bare hands, and roared out like a wounded animal, clutching at his head. Tarralyanna tried to visit him, to help him, to speak to him, but she ran away after she heard him yell, unbearable noise of breaking and crashing coming from his chambers. Running down the corridor, she ran headlong into her Master, who caught her for her shoulders with a serious look on his face.

"He will be all right," he said at length. "It is his destiny."

She said nothing, but watched him with unhidden relief as he swept into Tammutyen's chambers.

"WHY?" she heard Tammutyen's voice echo the corridor of the Temple, even though she was so far away, standing at its end and not daring to come any closer. Tammutyen's anger felt like noxious gas which was spreading through the Temple, destructive and horrible in its magnitude and strength. "WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME?"

Then she heard a scream; she imagined that the Dark Lord was punishing him and she bit her lip.

At the time, Tammutyen was lying on the floor, panting, but enduring the pain inflicted upon him with inhuman strength, barring his teeth in anger as he raised himself to his feet.

"You see how strong you are, my apprentice?" asked the Dark Lord softly, coming toward him. "Is it not what you desired all your life?"

"Not to be a blood-sucking worm, I have not!" yelled Tammutyen, "And I am NOT… YOUR APPRENTICE!"

"Yes, you are," said the Dark Lord in a chilling voice, Tarralyanna's hair standing on its end as she heard him speak like that. He would not kill him… would he? After all of the trouble he went through to resurrect him? "Not your body, but your soul, Tammutyen. That branding mark you bear upon your forearm says it all. You belong to me, and I may do what I will with you. And I want you to live, to continue with your study of the Dark side and become a powerful Sith. That is my will, and you will honour it."

"Or what?" laughed Tammutyen hysterically, throwing his head aback. "You will kill me?"

Tarralyanna held her breath; she read that those creatures could not be killed, but if her Master knew how to transform him, then he also knew how to un-create him, so to speak.

"There are many more worse things than death of one's body, my apprentice," said the Dark Lord coldly. "And you will get to know all of them if you do not obey. Now clear up that mess, wash yourself and eat. I shall send Tarralyanna with your meal. And I expect you to eat it. You have never seen the whole of my power, my apprentice; and you would better pray that you never shall."

He swept out of his chambers, leaving Tammutyen sobbing and whimpering on the floor. While Tarralyanna was trying to read in the library that evening, the Dark Lord showed up and gave her a fresh jar full of blood. She took it and went to Tammutyen's chambers, a part of her dreading his reaction. When she came in, she found him sitting stark naked on the floor with his head in his hands in complete darkness, as he ripped off his clothes in a fit of despair and dementia. He was very quiet. Disturbingly quiet, in fact.

"Tammutyen," she whispered, leaving the jar beside her, and placing her hand on his shoulder. "Please… I have missed you. Do not punish me as well."

She passed with her hand over his arm and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. His skin was so very cold and so very hard, as though made out of stone. She shivered. She felt him relax a little, and she lay her head on his shoulder. Her warmth and her closeness seemed to affect Tammutyen, but not in the way she would have wanted it. He suddenly twitched, placing his nose on her skin and taking a deep breath.

"You smell… so sweet," he whispered in a hoarse voice. Of course, she thought with a wince, he would like my smell because what he smelled was my blood. Albeit she felt a tinge of discomfort at the sheer idea, she felt that if he wanted to drink her blood, if it would help him in some way, that she should allow it by all means.

"I do?" she asked softly, leaning toward him. "You like it?"

He said nothing, but caught her firmly, at what she let out a yelp; his grip was too tight, and he was most certainly not aware of it.

The next thing she knew, she felt a searing pain in her neck and gave a stifled scream; he held her firmly, and now let out a deep moan of delight. Tarralyanna had been taught of all there was to know about enduring pain and she surrendered to it, while he was obviously drinking her blood and letting out moans that mingled with his deep breathing. A minute later, he released her with a gasp, covering his head with his hands. She put a hand to her neck, feeling for the teeth marks and then quickly summoned the Dark side to heal herself. He sat with his head between his knees, sobbing, while she was busy with healing herself.

"Do you feel better now?" she whispered in a trembling voice.

"I am like an animal!" he sobbed. "What have I done to you?"

"You have not harmed me, silly," she said, laughing. "I have already healed myself. And I have plenty more blood, thank you very much."

"I do not want to live like this," he whispered. Her smile faded, and she placed a hand on his arm once again.

"There will always be food for you," she whispered back, again laid her head on his shoulder. "I, for one, will always be there for you."

This brought him to reason and it seemed at last that she said the right thing. He looked at her and then slid an arm over her shoulders. Words were completely unnecessary at that point.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Tammutyen hated his Master for what he had done to him; but he obeyed him, even though it was with tardiness and obvious hatred. The Dark Lord did not punish him for this, but was watching him with a stony expression as he lowered himself to his knees before him, grinding his, now sharp, teeth and staring at his Master's boots. But who was really responsible for this change in him was Tarralyanna. She pleaded with him to remain calm, to continue his work, for her sake as well, for she too might easily end up on the wrong side of the Dark Lord's rod for failing to deliver his meals. And because Tammutyen respected her and besides saw no alternative, he obeyed and put up with everything. Or almost everything.

He was exploring his senses together with Tarralyanna, who was now showing true academic curiosity for it, along with her concern. But perhaps what forced him to do that, to explore that despicable creature of the night, what was a description from an old Jedi book she reread over and over again, to get a sense of direction. It made him realise he was special at last. Tarralyanna had been the one who was special all these years and Tammutyen felt deep satisfaction knowing that he was no longer an Albinian boy who was trying to harness his rage and master his emotions. Healing wounds and cuts was an old trick they watched together, over and over again, and Tarralyanna exclaimed the first time it happened. He got cut as he was gloomily sharpening his daggers. His skin rippled, like that day she saw him transform, and something black rolled down as the skin moved about, as though there was something trying to break free underneath it, after what a fresh layer of pale skin replaced the cut and all that remained was a tiny black drop, drying out.

Suddenly meditation had never been easier for him and his mind was a calm sea of rage; the easiness of it startled him, and he wondered time and again whether that was how it felt for Tarralyanna. It is wonderful, he thought; and happiness and content that filled him after each such successful meditation, that did not end in demolishing his table or setting his robes on fire, were reasons enough to look forward to his meditations.

His actual physical strength was formidable. Even without using the Force, he could crush things with his bare hands and bend iron easily. Now devouring all books on the subject, Tarralyanna came one day to his chambers, eyes twinkling with enthusiasm, reading passages from various books to him. One such creature had been seen by a Jedi pulling out a whole tree with its roots. Tarralyanna was fascinated and now considered him as a sort of an idol; and to tell the truth, Tammutyen was flattered and he enjoyed this fascination of hers with his new powers and his constitution. Everything was about him those days; how Tammutyen trained in the morning, and awed her with her concentration and control of the Dark side; how he crushed a vase for her amusement; how he did not care about harming himself because his body would take care of the damage at once; how he managed to drain a whole jar of blood and then described her how it felt (because as curious as she was, she would nag him to tell her how it felt before he finally gave in); how he meditated and forgot which day it was, so lost and immersed in the Dark side he was. Sometimes it felt as though he made peace with the notion he was what he was because of Tarralyanna, because her fascination and enthusiasm were highly contagious.

But he could not forget that it was his Master who had done this to him. He could not deny that the life he was leading then, despite of what he thought of it in the beginning, was an improvement by far. Sure, it took him many months to get used to his senses, and the mad, spinning sensation in his stomach whenever something alive would pass by him, bewitching him with the different fragrances of blood, as he called them. His Force senses have never been more potent and the Dark side had never been stronger with him, but there was more. His physical senses, too, seemed to be going wild. He could hear sounds Tarralyanna could not and would clap his ears in agony at a sound only he could hear. The sensitivity to light and cold remained more or less the same, although he could no longer remember the feeling how sunlight felt like when he was human for the sake of comparison. As for his food…. his Master would leave a fresh jar in his chambers every third day, and, disgusted as he was in the beginning, Tammutyen reluctantly opened one perhaps one week after the accident, allured by the irresistible smell coming from it. He did not know how to consume it, so he simply inclined it. The sensation which the act of drinking the liquid within was… amazing.

He was no longer attending breakfasts with Tarralyanna or occasional dinners with his Master, when they would be called, and was using his spare time to practise in the training hall, now completely obsessed with his strength and skill in battle. But his Master implicitly requested his presence one day, and he grudgingly met Tarralyanna outside his chambers, complaining about it as they walked together and saying that he really did not see any purpose in it, if it was not to tease him with what he could no longer do.

The Dark Lord greeted them as usual and told them to sit. The usual ceremony of eating Sanguae took place and Tammutyen was glaring darkly at Tarralyanna, who tried not to look at him or chew too loudly, feeling very awkward about this. After it had been eaten – Tammutyen sitting obediently and watching them eat – and trays and bowls have been brought in, the Dark Lord pushed a silver tray toward him. Tammutyen looked up, anger rising within him.

"I want you to eat this," said the Dark Lord quietly, pointing at the tray. "I want you to concentrate on this food and to consume it, like you used to, concentrating on its path down to your stomach. Should retching impulses appear, use the Force to compensate."

"Why would I want to eat food?" asked Tammutyen with contempt, glancing over the table. "I do not want to be a slave to human food."

"A Sith needs to regenerate, one way or the other," answered the Dark Lord curtly, pointing at the tray once again. Something in his eyes forced Tammutyen to obey as quickly as possible, hating him or not (for the Dark Lord had such an effect on his students) and he lifted the silver cover.

Tarralyanna looked away, her nose twitching. It was a small piece of raw meat, covered in blood. The awful smell, which was a mixture of dried blood and intestines, was making her dizzy and sick. Tammutyen, however, glanced over it with sudden interest. He reached out with his hands toward it, but the Dark Lord pointed at the knife and the fork standing at ready at Tammutyen's side. Tammutyen caught them inexpertly, spinning them around until he got them into the right position, and then began to cut the meat. He completely forgot how to hold a fork after all that time. Tarralyanna stared at her own plate, cutting her vegetables slowly into smaller and smaller pieces as though to appear busy and slowly nibbling at them, trying not to look at him, but keeping a Force eye on him, as subtly as she could. She looked up right on time to see him put a bit of meat into his mouth and then start chewing, slowly, as though the tiny piece of meat was ten times as large, his expression that of deepest concentration. Then he swallowed audibly. Tarralyanna waited for his reaction, along with the Dark Lord, and was now watching him with unhidden apprehension; Tammutyen's eyes closed briefly and his face contorted in the expression of utter disgust. She felt the Dark side around him, and then heard him exhale painfully.

"I did not say it would be easy," said his Master, watching him carefully. "Take it as a Force manipulation exercise, which it basically is. Now go on, eat the whole of it. Take your time."

Tarralyanna was already drinking wine along with her Master by the time Tammutyen finished with his eating. He leaned aback, exhausted, his brow furrowed, his lips twitching as though he was about to throw up at any point. The Dark Lord uncovered a goblet and pushed it toward him.

"Reward," he said curtly. The goblet was full of blood and Tammutyen seized it eagerly, downing it in a few gulps. He left it aside and heaved a deep sigh of content and relief.

"You will have dinner with me and Tarralyanna tomorrow again," said the Dark Lord as he was leaving. "I should warn you, however, that the urge to throw up is likely to occur sometime during the night; and I shall strongly advise you to fight it back. It is necessary for the meat to remain where it is. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," Tammutyen replied in a low voice, already feeling as though he was going to throw up, and leaving the chamber with Tarralyanna, who was very excited and who could not cease talking about what just happened.

"This is amazing, such an accomplishment! I know your constitution has been completely altered and that it should not be possible for you to eat food... I absolutely demand that you spend the night with me, so that I can keep track of everything that is going on."

Her expression was determined and he felt compelled to laugh.

"What if I get the urge to give you a little nibble during the night?" he asked, pinching her on the arm. He liked to tease her with threats of biting her.

"No, I do not think so," she said firmly, "For you just ate. And do not invent excuses, Tammutyen. Are you afraid I might see you vomit in the dead of the night like a Malaskian hag?"

She smiled at him evilly and smirked. She certainly achieved what she wanted to. He remained with her that night and he could remember so well her rubbing his back as he sat up in their bed, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead, concentrating, concentrating, until he thought his mind would explode. It took up so much of his will and the summoning of the Dark side to overcome the powerful retching impulses that he actually fell asleep in that position. She sat beside him until she was certain he was asleep, still rubbing his back, her sapphire eyes glittering in the semi-darkness as those of a Hog'taar, the bird that was a herald of the Fiery season, the bringer of warmth and blossom of flora. They awaited the rising of the Cyrron sun in this position, with her head in his lap, fast asleep, her hands still embracing him. But Tammutyen did not throw up that day, nor did he throw up the following day. And he began eating all that his Master presented him with. And curiously enough, although raw meat did not have the same effect on him as blood did, it still had a certain effect on him.

ooooooooooooo

Now what was left of this experience was embodied in that scar on his chest, reminding him of his death, of the time he truly died, and in the new tattoo that he asked the Dark Lord to make for him, that went all around his forearm. His Master never remarked on Tammutyen's outbursts of hatred until just recently. Tammutyen used to be disappointed, not getting any reaction out of the Dark Lord (except for punishment), for back then he would have welcomed a chance to yell and offend him, no matter what the consequences were. But as years passed by and he was knighted, he wondered why his Master never spoke about it. The truth was that his Master did not care. 'It was meant to be so and it was your destiny'. Only recently had Tammutyen began to understand what he was trying to tell him.


	16. Chapter 15 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

In this chapter Tarralyanna's roots are explained and I hope I did a good job explaining it. There will be more of it in the chapters that follow.

Cassie

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CAP. XV – The Daughter of the Stars

Each of the two students of the Dark Lord have had their own story of life to tell; and each of them had their darkest moments. Lady Tarralyanna's darkest moment was when she had been driven to the attempt of suicide; and this sorry event has taken place when she was seventeen.

She kept wondering over and over again how come Tammutyen was given five times less work than she was; and she remembered so well him going to his chambers to meditate hours before she was done with her work, tapping her on the shoulder with sympathy as she pored over all of the books and scriptures the Dark Lord gave her to read. Literature, history, mathematics, astronomy… She had her hands full of work all day, even without her trainings or Force exercises.

The natural ease with which she used the Dark side allowed her to compensate for strength and agility, but it could not help her with her studies. If she thought she might get away with not reading something, her Master would always be quicker. He would appear at the library at the most unusual hours and start quizzing her on the book she was supposed to finish reading two days ago; when she would fail to answer some of his questions, she would be warned that laziness would not be tolerated and given more work, in addition to what she she had already been given. It was logical to presume, of course, that Tarralyanna did her very best to learn everything on time. The alternative slowly ceased to be an alternative.

"Why do I need to know astronomy, my Master?" she asked him once. She felt that there was a very good reason for him to torment her like that, but she wanted to know.

Her Master put down the book he was holding, and inclined his head.

"Why?" he echoed, sounding surprised, rather than offended. "The ways of the Dark side are in the movements of the moons, planets and stars, my apprentice. To know and understand it better, one needs to know a lot about astronomy."

"I was just wondering…" she said, bowing her head, but resolute to ask him what she wanted. "Why Tammutyen does not need to know all these things?"

The Dark Lord gave a sinister chuckle.

"He learned the basics," he said, "But he does not need it. Even if he knew all the things you are learning now, it would not help him much, you see. It would be all the same to him."

"Why?" she asked again, startled.

"Because," said her Master, leaning a little forward. "Your can only benefit from assimilation of new knowledge. It helps you to understand things, to add pieces to the great puzzle. Whereas your brother can, for instance, benefit from a running session. He can understand the ways of the Dark side better that way. He learns about himself by testing himself and accepting his weaknesses. That is his way, and this is yours."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Tarralyanna has never had a lot of problems with the art of meditation. She had no fear before the awesome power of the Dark side, like Tammutyen did, although if one judged by her nature, her upon the first glance timid movements and soft speech, one would never believe she could command the Dark side as easily as she could. This was easy for her; whereas at the same time, her brother was having temper tantrums each time it was time for meditation. She could hear him shout almost every evening as she was passing through the corridor leading to her chambers, pressing a few books to her chest that she meant to read in bed, yawning widely and rubbing her eyes. Those sounds allured a smile to her face; she was grateful that this was one thing that was easy for her at least.

The relationship between her and the Dark Lord had always been special. She remembered sitting on a cushion by his feet on a balcony of the Temple and gazing at the stars. Tammutyen was training in the hall, and he was very angry again, what she concluded from the crashes coming from the direction of the training hall.

"And that red dot, beside the galaxy of J'Roh," spoke the Dark Lord, pointing his ringed finger at the whitish twirl which was the distant galaxy. "That is F'Ganyll, the watcher of the warriors."

"Oh yes, the great warrior of the First Age, who ascended to the sky and became a star," she said, staring up and smiling. "I remember the story."

"And do you remember why this happened?" he asked. His interrogations were sometimes very subtle, but she learned very quickly how to read through them.

"He refused to fight a battle for gold, solely for the purpose of attaining wealth. He wanted to face an opponent for the sake of sword measuring and he did not believe that his opponent was a worthy one," she answered promptly, sounding as though she was quoting a book. "And he said that as far as he was concerned, that he was already dead, if he would be forced to give up his honour like that. This is why they tried to kill him, but he ascended into the sky and turned into a star, to watch over the honourable warriors, great warriors, who were just like him."

"And how about that star?" the Dark Lord pointed at the other side, smiling at her answer. He was pointing at a large blue star, pulsing and beaming down upon them beside a cluster of tiny ones.

"Hmm, let me see," she said, thinking intently, "That cluster beside it could be… the Fish Eye… or the Goat's Skull… but it cannot the Goat's Skull because there are no blue stars around that cluster. So it has to be the Fish Eye."

"Very good," said the Dark Lord, nodding. "And what would be the name of the blue star?"

"Narri-wath, the eye of the ancient God of Cyrron," she said at once. "He watches over Horukaan that way."

"The Force does, we know that," he said, smiling at her in the semi-darkness. "But what does this tell us?"

"That the people want to have a standing reminder of their faith? Something to look up to and pray to?" she asked tentatively.

"That, and that the Cyrron sun, as much as it is a giver of life, in the Fiery season, is a destroyer in the Watery, for it distances itself away from us to allow hail and rain crush the face of the planet and destroy crops and fields. Everything has two faces, my apprentice. The creator, and the destroyer. Many believe that the Dark side is the destroyer, as opposed to the light side, which would be the Creator. But this is an oversimplification, as you know. The Dark side can create, as much as it can destroy."

"But there is one important point to consider here," he went on, as though he had all of the time in the world and as though he did not just take her out for an astronomy session, purposefully ignoring odd screeching noises that were telling Tarralyanna that Tammutyen had opened the window and was now sharpening his Ptah in a frenzy, probably very annoyed.

"The Cyrron sun is the giver of life, when it is close to the planet. But to us, too much light can be harmful. Not that we do not enjoy it; but insomuch that a candle suffices and semi-darkness like this, with moonlight only, is quite pleasurable to us. What do you make of that, my student? Which conclusion to draw from this?"

"That to us Cyrron is always a destroyer?" she asked.

"No," he said softly, "You are thinking too linearly. Remember what I have taught you. Always consider all possibilities, no matter how fantastic they might sound."

"Yes, Master," she answered quietly, thinking intently, but she was quite clueless. She frowned.

"Perhaps," said the Dark Lord after a pause, "one might say that we do not NEED a lot of light."

This stunning statement was accompanied by silence on Tarralyanna's part, who shifted to sit on her other leg to be more comfortable. As she did so, she tugged gently at her Master's robes and flinched, wondering whether he minded. But the following moment she felt his heavy, cold hand on her shoulder. The Dark Lord rarely ever touched anyone, not even his students, and when he did, it felt strange, but gratifying.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

She could still remember so very well the day he brought a prisoner the training hall and placed him into a corner like a sack of potatoes. When Tarralyanna and Tammutyen walked in, they halted dead at the sight of him sitting silent with his hood over his head and a bound person behind him.

"This is your today's assignment," said the Dark Lord, pointing at the prisoner. Tarralyanna swallowed. She touched the side of her Saragon a little nervously with her elbow, as though to ascertain herself it was still there. The Saragon had become an extension of her hands, her trusted ally, her friend, and she started sleeping with it on a table next to her.

"You have learned about anatomy a lot, but so far you have only learned the theory," said the Dark Lord, getting to his feet. "But now I want you to use the Dark side to kill this man."

Tarralyanna stiffened all of a sudden, whereas Tammutyen, who was standing beside her, stirred for a different reason – he was very keen on it and was now eyeing the bound man with his eyes glinting.

"No, not you, Tammutyen," said his Master, waving off. "You will get the second one. Tarralyanna, I daresay, needs the exercise more than you do. Tarralyanna, come here."

Feeling a little nervous, she stepped forward, aware of Tammutyen's resentful glance resting on her. At the same time she was well aware that he was watching her with amusement. He always ridiculed her for her fancy for animals and he could not imagine for the life of him that she would be able to kill anyone, not even a bird. But now she was following the orders of the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord levitated the bound man with the Dark side, propping him against the wall before Tarralyanna. The man's eyes were wide with horror and were fixed upon the two Sith. He was gagged, but Tarralyanna was sure that if he was not, he would never stop screaming.

"Now," said the Dark Lord quietly, coming toward Tarralyanna. "He is Albinian. I thought we would start with the easiest and the most familiar race. How can one kill an Albinian, using the Force? Think about his anatomy."

"One could crush his heart, Master," started Tarralyanna, thinking back on the large volume on Albinian anatomy. "Block his air ducts – without air they cannot survive very long."

"Very good," said the Dark Lord. "Go on. There is more. Think… of his skeletal composition."

"Oh," she said, grateful for this hint and thinking intently. "I doubt breaking his legs would accomplish a lot… he would still be alive. No." She was pondering with a finger on her lips, and the Dark Lord sat silent, allowing her to think about it. "Breaking his spine might do the trick."

"And where would you break it?" asked her Master seriously.

"In the middle?" she asked tentatively. "No, too hard. He would still have half of his bodily functions running. Below the head."

"Neck," said the Dark Lord, coming toward the prisoner, and tapping his finger on his neck, at what he began wriggling like mad and slid down to the floor, mumbling incoherently. The Dark Lord lifted a lazy finger and levitated him back into his original position. "Which exercise, in retrospect, would resemble the breaking of a spine? Think of the construction of the spine, of the firmness of the bone."

"Stone smashing," she answered at once. She was reminded of it because of the colour. Her Master nodded.

"Yes," he said at length, casting a glance at the prisoner, who could not understand a word they were saying, but he figured that they were discussing how they would kill him.

"Proceed," said the Dark Lord, positioning himself to her left and crossing his hands before him, "Reach out with the Dark side, and feel his spine."

Tarralyanna recomposed at once; she quickly closed her eyes and skimmed over his bones with the Dark side. The prisoner let out a whimper, even though he could not see any weapons.

"Now think of the firmness of the bone and envelop it with the Dark side, like you did with the stone," said the Dark Lord.

She did as she was told, extending the dark hand of the Force and enveloping it with firmness around the neck of the prisoner. Now it felt like nothing more but a piece of rock.

"Good," said her Master, "Now crush it with all the might of the Dark side."

Tarralyanna obeyed, clenching her fist so hard that she felt her nails dig into her palm through her gloves; she did not open her eyes until she was certain that the piece she was concentrating on was crushed into powder under the mighty hand of the Dark side, and quickly scanned its surrounding to notice something very strange. The space before her exploded, as though her act released something. Before she could grope for it more thoroughly, it was gone. She opened her eyes, puzzled. The prisoner was leaning against the wall, his head lolling oddly forwards. She stared at him wordlessly.

"Excellent," said the Dark Lord, nodding at her. She smiled at his praise.

"What you felt explode, was his spirit," he said in an answer to her thoughts, approaching the body, "It broke free of the confines of flesh and blood. That is death."

"Oh," she said, baffled. "He had been in so much pain, and what I did freed him. I felt his bliss!"

"He was caught a day before yesterday and was carted off here, to the capital town," said the Dark Lord matter-of-factly. "He murdered his wife."

"Horrible," said Tarralyanna, staring at him. "What I did was too good for him. I helped him!"

"You did what I asked you to, my apprentice," said her Master a little sternly, levitating the body and turning to leave. "And you have done it very well. Now train. I shall be back shortly."

"How did it feel?" spluttered Tammutyen as soon as the Dark Lord was gone, bursting with curiosity. "Well? Well?"

She glowered at him, taking the Saragon into her hands.

"It felt like a piece of rock, just like the ones we exercise with," she said a little angrily. His face fell. "I am just sorry I did it. He deserved one of your knife dart games played on his face."

She passed him by without another word, and Tammutyen stared after her with an expression of surprise.

"You know, you are a devious little thing," he said, taking his Ptah down from his shoulders and beaming at her. "All this time, pretending you are all timid, but then you go and say something like that. Mighty Darkness, you are as bloodthirsty as ten Tammutyens."

She gave him a nasty look, but smiled as she began with her exercises. She felt very pleased with herself and felt that killing was nothing like the thing books spoke about, nothing horrible, nothing ugly. She had done him a favour and she was not certain whether he deserved it.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Next time there was a prisoner waiting for Tammutyen and he approached him eagerly. Tarralyanna rolled her eyes and sat on the floor, embracing her knees and settling down to watch something gruesome, for a change. His prisoner was Droddian, to their surprise. Their anatomy was far simpler than that of Albinians, but at the same time, their organs and bones were as hard as metal and very hard to crush. They were as sturdy as mountain goats, and she wondered for a moment how she would have done it. She would go for the heart, beyond doubt; she knew quite enough about Droddian anatomy to avoid meddling with their bones and organs. Their hearts were very easy to locate, unlike those of Albinians; right between their legs, massive squares of hard tissue, spreading from the side of one leg to the other, she remembered, tracing the shape of it with her finger in the air thoughtfully, while Tammutyen was studying his prey eagerly from up close. She would have to use something, though; it would be far easier to do it with an object, rather than with the Force, for there would be a lot of mess, she mused. Their hearts beat way faster than those of Albinians, and thus, she reckoned, the mess would be considerable. It would have to be something pointy. Perhaps an… arrow? Or a dagger? No, too messy.

ooooooooooooooo

What made her feel so angry and helpless was not the great amount of work; it was not the fact that she felt as though she was running from one duty to the other, trying to do everything perfectly and always working, working, always exhausted, always sleepy and looking forward to the twelfth day of the week – the last day – when she and Tammutyen were given some free time to wander the mountains around the Temple, as long as they promised they would avoid being seen. She would go to bed very early, and sleep like the dead until the first Cyrron hour, when it was time for her training.

She remembered sitting in the library with her quill in hand, poring over a mathematics book. She felt as though she was reading something written in a foreign language, and none of it made sense. And she was supposed to finish it by that evening. And she still did not finish that book on the Great War of the Second Age, plus she injured her arm during the morning training, because she was too distracted, thinking about all of the work waiting for her. Nothing she did was of any good; and yet she was trying harder than ever. She was sure that her Master would punish her. Exasperated and desperate, she threw her quill aside and went back to her chambers, meaning to meditate and then come back to the library, thinking that meditation would help her gather up her thoughts. But it only made things worse. She was unable to concentrate and the Dark side perceived it, felt her weakness and used it against her. Horrible images started flashing across her mind and she felt colder than ever. Giving up and withdrawing from her meditative state after perhaps ten minutes of frenzied trying, she thought about the library and the mathematics book and felt sick to her stomach. She had not eaten that day, trying to save up some time for work. She felt dizzy and weak on her feet, and she would have liked nothing more but to sleep through the whole day, the whole sixty hours.

And then she remembered the man she killed. She set him free and his bliss was palpable. If only she could feel that way, only for a moment, she thought. Death is liberation, endless bliss, going away from all of this, away from the purposeless suffering and endless schedules, running from one duty to another and never doing anything right. Was she incompetent? Her Master was expecting so much of her; he believed that she could do all that work, to understand all that complicated mathematics and yet her brain would not budge, it would not bring her the peace of mind that comprehending the mathematical problems or successfully going through her training would offer her. Now not even meditation was a comfort. She felt desperate, drained out, ready to jump out of her own skin. And then… she looked through the window and at the gorge gaping under it. She could just jump and everything would be fine. She would feel pain for one short moment, perhaps, and then everything would be over. She would be blissful, eternally, and would be resting in the embrace of the Dark side she loved. It would not have to be hard at all. All she had to do was to jump.

She took off her cloak and opened the door leading to the balcony. The cold wind caressed her weary, warm face; the depth of the gorge was intimidating, there was no bottom as far as the eye could see and she could see nothing but darkness. A number of times she tried to stretch out her senses to the bottom, to feel it, but she always slammed against something, that was preventing her from verifying it was really there, that this monstrous gorge actually had a bottom. Either way, she mused, it did not matter. Even if it did not, it would not matter, for she would be dead by then anyway. She looked up to the dark sky and immersed herself into the Dark side wholly. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed by its power and she smiled. Tammutyen would be sorry to know she was gone, but it would not matter. She would visit him from the Dark side and tell him all about the peace she finally found, all about the bliss she found in the eternal existence that death of flesh offered. And she would be free. Free, at last. She looked down for the last time and felt no fear. She stepped over the windowsill and the next thing she knew, she was falling, arms outstretched, eyes closed, flying on the wings of the Dark side. And then, something happened. A mighty hand grabbed her and she found herself lying on a cold stone floor with her Master peering at her from under his hood, sweeping with the Dark side over her, to check whether she was injured. She blinked up at him, uncertain whether to feel afraid or angry. She felt neither.

"Can you walk, my apprentice?" he asked her in a quiet voice. She could not fathom out whether he was angry with her or what he felt. His emotions remained concealed before her senses. She nodded blankly, abandoning all codes of behaviour toward her Master, simply getting to her feet. She stared at the floor, feeling drained and empty, unable to feel anything.

"Follow me," he said, turning around and leading the way inside. She concluded that she had been drawn into his study, where he now settled himself behind his desk and poured her a goblet of water, placing it before her.

"Drink that," he said. She reached after the goblet, not looking at him, not caring about anything any more. She hoped he would kill her for this and finish what she had started. The warm water trickled soothingly down her throat and she sighed, looking down on her hands. It helped her body to feel better, but her mind was still in the same state of emotional numbness as before.

"Why have you tried to take your own life?" he asked her. He knows why, she thought, so why is he asking me this? All of a sudden, she felt angrier than ever. She jumped to her feet, anger roiling through her like some mitghty poison.

"Nothing I ever do is good enough!" she screamed atop of her voice. The Dark Lord simply stared at her, not moving a muscle. "I try so hard… and nothing is good enough! Well, I am not the apprentice you want! I cannot do anything with my Saragon! I do not understand mathematics! I forgot all of the dates from that stupid history book and I have no idea what happened after the Treaty was signed during the Great War, because I forgot even what I have read yesterday, I fell asleep on the book! I am too stupid to understand astronomy and mathematics, and I cannot memorise anything! And I have news for you – I cannot meditate any more, because I cannot concentrate! I cannot do anything right and I do not want to do this any more!"

She stood breathing heavily, her chest heaving up and down as she spat all that out, her anger, her annoyance and her frustration bursting out of her. She was showing a clear lack of respect and by this hour, she should have already been in bed because she had training early in the morning. But she did not care at all. For the first time in her life, she did not give a damn.

"I cannot do this any more, I just cannot bear it," she said, burying her face in her hands. "Heart of Rage, I feel like I am going mad."

"Tarralyanna," said the Dark Lord softly, miraculously immune to her aura of despair and pointless anger. "Sit down."

She dropped down on her chair, her swollen eyes looking up to meet the dark eyes of her Master, which were scrutinising her.

"Taking your life would have been the easy way out, the way of a coward," said the Dark Lord seriously. "And we, the Sith, are everything but cowards. We bear with pain and endure – we persevere."

"I know that," she said quietlty. "But it was just too much for me."

"I believed I knew you very well, that I was teaching you very well," he said with a sigh, twiddling with his goblet and staring at the table. "But I was wrong. I have been harsh and very demanding because I knew you could do it, because I expected great, great things from you, Tarralyanna. Great things indeed. You are the most promising student of the Dark side I could have hoped for."

"Then why have I failed at everything?" she whispered, rubbing her eyes. She felt exhausted.

"You are still in training," he said quietly, raising his glance. "It was wrong of me to expect you to just keep on going. I have forgotten what I was like when I was your age."

He gave a small smile as the memories washed over him and then leaned aback, bringing the tips of his fingers together, something he did whenever he was thoughtful.

"I started with my training in the Dark side rather late, whereas you had me, your teacher and your Master, since the age of three. As for why you have been given all that work... Your talent is indisputable, Tarralyanna."

"I have never told you how I found you," the Dark Lord went on. Tarralyanna froze on the spot, staring at him. He never allowed her to ask questions about her roots. Whenever she tried asking something, he simply said that she belonged to him now and that her life began when she became his apprentice. Nothing else mattered, he told her. "I believe it is time for you to learn the truth."

"I have taken Tammutyen – that story the both of you know – and was riding back to Gotan, with him in my arms, a little sleeping bundle," the Dark Lord said, staring into distance as he reminisced. "And I came across something very odd. My Force senses detected a large crater before me, and I yawed off my course to have a look. I shall never forget the sight of it. There was a hole, at least a hundred feet deep, and the trees and plants that grew there were burned to dust. Nothing remained. There was a long dragging trail across the ground, as though something burning flew over the forest, grazed the treetops as it descended lower and then landed. I have seen pieces of rock scattered around the place and I guessed that these used to be parts of whatever hit the ground. I went to investigate. That rock did not belong to Horukaan, that I sensed at once."

"With the Dark side, I lowered myself into the hole, together with Tammutyen, for I did not wish to leave him on his own. I felt it was not safe," he went on. "Even as a three-year old child, he was already showing inclination of getting into trouble. There was rock everywhere I looked, most of it turned into very fine dust caused by the impact. But there was something else."

He paused, leaning toward Tarralyanna, who was now bating her breath.

"A small pile of silvery dust, right at the rim," he said softly, smiling at her. "I went over there and dug around a little. I have never seen anything like it. As I dug, something moved under it and I reached out with the Dark side, verifying there was a living creature in there. With dust all over its face and nose, there was a little child, naked. A little girl."

"She had violet hair, deep violet, like that of the sky of Horukaan in the late evening; her eyes were closed, because she was still half-asleep. I reached out for her hand and caught it. She woke up. She did not cry; she simply opened her eyes, her clear, sapphire eyes, and looked at me. I sensed Darkness around her, fluttering like a protective cloud. I promised to the Dark side that I would take care of the child, that she would be my student; and I took the little girl with me to the Temple, riding back to Gotan with two children instead of one under my arms. I named her Tarralyanna. Do you know what this name means?"

Tarralyanna stared at him, speechless. Her senses told her that he was telling the truth and he was allowing her now to see all that he had seen, allowing the images to build up in his mind, offering them to her to examine them. Seeing herself as a child, so small, so strange, so beautiful made her feel awkward. 'T'raa', as far she knew, meant 'star' in Sith. She always thought that her Master added the ending to make it sound more Sith-alike. And although she was very fond of her name, she never imagined it meant anything really.

"In Sith, it means 'the daughter of the stars'," he said, glancing over her. "It is not a custom for a master to have two apprentices and it had not been my intention to have two, following the tradition. But Darkness has its reasons. Things would never have worked out so well, had I only had Tammutyen, or only you. The two of you function perfectly together."

"But how can a star crash?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling. "I… I must have parents! Every being has parents!"

"I have theories," said the Dark Lord, remembering the conversation in a meditative state he led with his own master, with his spirit in the Dark side. "But no facts to share with you. But I know which star it was, however. It was the third star to the left of Tha'Keth."

"The dark princess," said Tarralyanna quietly. "Mistress of the night."

"And an aspect of the Dark side which we call 'the dark lover'," said the Dark Lord. "The black rose, symbol of love for Darkness. It is a symbol of death and of rebirth; it grows away from the garish light and insincerity; it rises from the bones of fear and doubt, its roots running deep into the conquered weakness and annihilated fear. It is a power always underestimated, and never understood; but you can understand it, since you are the daughter of Tha'Keth."

"So that is why… I am different, why my blood is different. Are there no others, like me?"

"Not that I am aware of, nor do the spirits of the Masters know of them," said the Dark Lord, his eyes glinting. "And yes, you are different. But you understand something other Sith cannot."


	17. Chapter 16 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

In this chapter the three Sith depart to the volcanic land, where the Dark Lord himself was taught.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XVI – Ma-Taat-Har, The Tongue of Fire

The King of Quentaa and Chief Growthak were about to depart back to their homelands and Tarralyanna and Tammutyen stood watching them leave with their hands raised in a salute. The two rulers departed with heaviness in their hearts and what they have seen and heard would trouble them for many days afterwards. They would never forget the power they felt emanate from their friend and advisor, the ruler of Gotan. And if there was not such an awesome power, to convince them to agree to an alliance with him, then it was the fact that he has been there all this time, that this person, this Dark Lord of the Sith has always been there, and yet they did not know.

That evening, the Dark Lord had another piece of news for his students, who were trying to catch up on their work in the library. The Dark Lord entered the library a second before Lady Tarralyanna threw her quill aside with a curse, rubbing her forehead angrily. The Dark Lord smiled as she bound up and got to her knees nervously.

"Rise," he said quietly, sweeping away from them.

"This is not going to be an interrogation night," he said, sitting down with a sigh and glancing over the mass of parchment filled with mathematical formulae that littered Tarralyanna's table, crumpled parchment spilling out of the basket beside it. "No. I have come to let you know what I have decided, in the light of everything that happened. I wanted to undertake a journey to Gnath, to visit my master's tomb – and I want you to come with me."

Tammutyen let out an excited gasp, whereas Tarralyanna yelped, her lips stretched into a wide, excited smile. The Dark Lord laughed a little and then stood up, looking very pleased with himself. His shiny black hair was bound with golden straps and was falling over his shoulder to his front, where it dangled around his knees.

"I thought so," he said. "Well, we leave in two days. You should prepare yourselves. And, Tarralyanna—" he looked sharply at her, with her now wondering what she had down wrong this time and bowing her head nervously, as she never knew what was on his mind. "You shall visit me in my study after you are done with your studies, at whichever hour that might be. That is all."

The two Sith exchanged excited glances as soon as the black cloak of the ruler of Gotan disappeared through the doorway.

"I cannot believe it!" Tarralyanna whispered into Tammutyen's ear, rubbing his back. "He had always been so secretive about the time spent in training and now he wants to take us to Gnath, to the place where he learned all that power… The Dark Lord… the great Dark lord of the Second Age lived there! Oh, Tammutyen, this is going to be one trip to remember!"

"I have to replenish my stock of food," he said thoughtfully, caressing her hair.

"Oh, if he had no objections," She gestured in the direction of the doorway to indicate the Dark Lord. "I would like to come with you, to help you hunt," she said, looking at him seriously. "I need fresh a hide for my bow anyway."

oooooooooooooooooooo

That evening, eyes itching, Tarralyanna made her way to the Dark Lord's tower, situated in the eastern wing of the Temple. She was yawning and felt dizzy, but on the whole she was pleased with herself, as she managed to finish her calculations. She was clutching her notebook, meaning to take another look at it before she goes to bed, to check whether she had done everything correctly. No one was ever allowed to approach the Dark Lord's tower, except for the two Sith, and that only if they were called. The Malaskian servants avoided it in large arcs, passing by the tall black iron door that led to the stairway as quickly as they could. Tarralyanna met with Peetah on her way there, who bowed to her deeply and peered up at her with concern. The Malaskian offered to prepare a bath for her and Tarralyanna accepted, thinking how she would never have thought of that herself. Surely it would help with those sore legs, she thought happily as she climbed the winding stairs.

She sighed as she stepped into the welcoming warmth of her Master's study. It would normally be filled with strange fumes and odd scents that she could not identify and this time there was a strange smell hovering in the air as well.

"I have something for you, my apprentice," said the Dark Lord, coming around his table and leaving aside a wooden panel, which he was engraving with Sith glyphs. Tarralyanna could detect the pungent scent of fresh tar, which he used when he was writing on something that needed to be waterproof. He always seemed to be manufacturing something, crafting out talismans and strange devices. She got her hands on a book about Caelian magic and she found some things in it that struck her as exceedingly familiar, until she figured that she had seen them in her Master's study. A gold mine for observation, his study was covered floor to ceiling with shelves, which hosted books, boxes, candlesticks, strange clicking devices and dark spheres. There was a small cauldron in one corner of his study and something dark and green was bubbling inside of it. What was he cooking?

"I have completed it yesterday," he said, rummaging through the many boxes on one of the shelves and withdrawing a wooden box resembling a cube. It was painted black and the scanty light rebounded off its polished surface. Tarralyanna stared at it eagerly. The Dark Lord turned and approached her, lowering it into her hands. When he distanced himself from her to sit at his table again, she looked down at the box and then slowly opened it.

At first she thought it was empty, except for the numerous layers of black silk, but then she reached out with her senses and felt something in there. It was… a sphere, a beautiful, smooth orb.

"What do you think it is?" her Master asked, interlacing his ringed fingers and givign her a look of amusement.

"Orbs can be used for many purposes, my Master," she answered, turning it over in her hands. "It depends on what you have meant me to use it for."

"A very diplomatic answer," he said, laughing a little. "I have made this orb out of purest mountain crystal, found under a waterfall. Thus it would contain all of the raging power of water and its strength. Perfect for you. What I wanted you to do with it—" he shifted in his seat, "—is to ask the Dark side to show you what it desires you to see in that orb. These visions that you have been having, to appear in the depths of the orb, instead of your mind. That way you could choose the time you wanted to receive them, when you are ready for them, and this would make the task much easier for the Dark side itself, for it would need no medium."

"But—" she gasped, staring at the orb. "It is just… an orb!"

"Oh?" he lifted his eyebrows at her, growing a little more serious all of a sudden. "Is it, now?"

He stood up slowly and she shivered, thinking she definitely said something wrong.

"What is this, my apprentice?" he asked softly. She lifted up her glance and saw a small mirror with a frame made out of brass, which the Dark Lord was holding in his hand.

"A mirror, my Master," she answered in a very small voice, expecting to be proved wrong.

"Take a look into it, then," he said, bringing it closer to her. Tarralyanna shrugged and gazed into the mirror.

She saw her face there all right, but was different. Her eyes were no longer sapphire but pitch black, her face was pale as snow and there was an aureole around her head, a dark, pulsing aureole which seemed to be coming from her. She gasped.

"That is how you look to the Dark side," he said, walking back to the shelves with the mirror in his hand. "That is how a Sith knight looks like, as seen by the eyes of the Dark side."

She could not fail to notice that the mirror gave a violent flash as he directed it at himself, in the process of placing it back into its box. She held her breath.

"Nothing is as it seems," he said in a quiet voice, sitting once again behind his table. "You learned that very early, as a child, when you started working with the Dark side. But you must know as well, that there are ways of bringing it into manifestation, for all eyes to see and all ears to hear, not just ours. Just as it is the case with Force Lightning. And consequently, the journey to Gnath will make it possible for you to practise it along the way."

"How do I ask the Dark side to show me what it desires to tell me in the orb, my Master?" she asked, still thinking about the mirror. What was it, anyway?

"You begin treating it like a medium, honouring it for what it is, a means for you to communicate with the Dark side," said the Dark Lord simply. "Then you firmly ask the Dark side, before you start with your meditation, to show you if there is something to be shown to you in its depths."

"Have you done that, my Master?" she asked curiously.

"I have other means," he answered vaguely.

ooooooooooooooooooo

That evening, having had an extra black coffee to keep herself awake, Lady Tarralyanna entered her meditation chamber, holding the box containing the orb in her hands. She sighed and pulled it out, holding it up. It was so well crafted that there was not a single graze, not one imperfection on the surface of the crystal.

"Mighty Dark side, you have been showing me many things, in my mind," she said aloud, staring fixedly at the orb, feeling a little stupid while doing this. "Now I ask you, if there is something else you desire me to know, if you have something else to show me, if there is danger threatening my Master, the Dark Lord, or for his two apprentices, show it to me now."

The orb was as still and as silent as before and Tarralyanna had the impression it was gaping back at her with ridicule. She sighed, but persevered in staring at it. It was very difficult to concentrate on it, she found. The Dark Lord instructed her to do this as she would reach out for a person's thoughts – leaving her mind blank and impartial and thus allowing the inflow of information. Just as she was about to put the orb away, her eyes watering due to intent staring, something flickered within its depths. A tall fire flashed and then disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Tarralyanna peered at the orb more intently, her heart hammering against her ribs. But nothing happened, and the surface of the orb was as smooth and as dull as before. She relaxed with the orb in her lap and closed her eyes to meditate, thinking that she was perhaps too exhausted and was beginning to see strange things where there were none. She would try again tomorrow.

She fell into meditation, rocking in the cradle of the Dark side, unaware of her surroundings. The orb was still resting in her lap, her hands enclosed around it. Suddenly it grew warm and got warmer and warmer, until it caught her attention. Still in her meditative state, Lady Tarralyanna looked with her Force eyes at the orb. Thousand images flashed through her mind and she felt overwhelmed, unable to breathe, trying to focus on at least one of them. The Dark side clearly perceived her inability to focus and the images slowed down, until they became clearer.

An image of people sitting together in a circle appeared before her mind's eye. They were discussing something very seriously, and though she could not hear any particular words, she was certain that they were discussing a very delicate situation and that they were very worried. The image faded and got replaced by another one, and then quickly by another one, as though the Darkness was in a hurry. The flag of the Jedi Order flogged in the wind atop of the Jedi Temple; a Malaskian traveller was talking about a shadow, living in the volcano land; and finally, an image of two riders wearing brown Jedi cloaks flashed before Lady Tarralyanna's eyes.

"now you know, servant of Darkness," whispered a voice, which was not really a voice. "Bring glory to Darkness... celebrate it... and one day..."

A pause. Then a powerful image flashed across her weary mind. Her Master, standing bolt upright with a staff in his hand, with Tammutyen and Tarralyanna standing right behind him. He came out on a balcony and Tarralyanna froze as she saw thousands upon thousands of people, kneeling in silence. The Dark Lord's thin lips stretched into a satisfied smile.

"The Sith Order shall rise to become an invincible force," the voice whispered, "You shall bring glory to it and serve the Dark side."

Tarralyanna's eyes opened abruptly, without warning or her conscious decision, and the orb quivered in her sweaty hands. She glanced around the room, trying to remember which day it was and what just happened. Then everything came pouring back to her; she quickly replaced the orb back into its box, closed and placed it carefully into a cabinet where she kept all her meditation supplies, and then rushed out of the room.

oooooooooooooooooo

Two days later, they departed for the volcanic land, their Master riding in a light trot ahead of them, seeming quite unperturbed by anything, even after what Tarralyanna told him.

"I am telling you," said Tarralyanna with a deep sigh, keeping her voice down so that she would not disturb him. "It is just like impressions you get in meditation. You _do_ get impressions, do you not?"

She looked at him sharply. Tammutyen shrugged his massive shoulders and stretched like a cat.

"I suppose," he said vaguely. "But I receive them, rather than send them."

"How do you hear my thoughts and I yours, Mr Wise?" she snorted. "You do not exactly form sentences in your mind, do you?"

"Well, that is exactly how I begin, as a matter of fact," he said, pointing a finger at her, as though she just voiced something he could never comprehend fully. "But when I concentrate on you, or Master, they somehow… get a little vague. I always thought I was doing it wrong."

"No, silly," she said, laughing quietly. "That is how it is supposed to be."

"Oh," he said, looking a little crestfallen. Having discussions with her about something she was very good at, and he could not understand, was driving him mad, and she knew it. But he had to rise above his silly urge to be always superior at everything and he was learning fast, even though he was reluctant to take any lessons in the beginning.

"Right, let us continue our little game," she said, straightening up in her saddle, and leaning a little forward, her stallion ploughing on eagerly beside Tammutyen's. "Your turn."

"Ready," he said, opening his eyes after a short pause, in which she patiently waited, staring at the horizon.

"Dandelion," she said.

"Garish light," he fired out at once. She smiled at him.

"Lake," she said next.

"Coldness," he answered.

"Very true," she said, nodding. "Snow."

"Tea," he said.

"Tea?" she echoed, staring at him.

"Yes, well, tea always helps me warm up quickly after a long run in the snow," he said, grinning at her.

"I see. Snake," she said with determination.

"Battle," he answered.

"Interesting," she said, pursing her lips. "Chestnuts."

"Eyeballs," he said.

"Really, Tammutyen, you _are_ disgusting," she said, laughing. "Cave."

"Secrets," he said.

"Understandable," she said, shrugging, "Pumpkin."

"Skull of a Droddian?" he said, "Large and hard, but if one knows where to strike..."

"Honestly!" she said, propping herself against her hip and staring at him, uncertain whether he was teasing her or not. "You are horrible!"

"Your turn," he said with a nasty grin. "Flowers."

"Salad," she said dreamily, "Lunch."

"Mountain goat," he said.

"Friend," she said.

"Sundown," he said.

"Relief," she said, and the both of them laughed. She thought she saw her Master's head turn a little in their direction and Tammutyen lowered his voice.

"Sea," he said.

"Power of Rage," she answered.

"Bird," he said.

"Freedom," she answered.

"Bed," he said next.

"Rest at last," she sighed, "I have no idea how my bed looks like. I always fall asleep before I get the chance to look around."

He snorted and looked down at the plateau, toward which they were riding. A narrow path lead downwards, toward a glistening lake laced with snow and glazed with frost.

"Wind," he said softly, not looking at her.

"The Dark side," she said.

"How very curious," he said, looking at her with his eyebrows raised. "Why?"

"I used to meditate with my window open a little when I was little," she said. "And I remember the candles flickering in the wind."

"Let us practice now, this is a good time," he said, as he spurred his horse to get in front of hers, for the path was too narrow for them to ride one beside other. The black stallion began gracefully to descend, following the steep path leading downwards. "I shall send you thoughts."

"Fine," she said, amused, her glance resting on his long hair which was braided loosely, just like hers. It gave him the appearance of an ancient warrior, which was exactly what he wanted. There was a definite note of savageness and raw physical strength about Tammutyen, what he guiltlessly enjoyed.

She felt a rush through the Force coming from his direction and smiled at his thoughts. He was thinking about last night, which they spent together.

"All right," she said, laughing at his imagination, as he even imagined an alternative ending to their nocturnal adventures. "And was it just a mental impression, or have there been some words involved?"

"I hope there have not been any," he answered edgily. "I did try."

"Well," she said. "Wait for mine."

"Whoa," he called from up front, his stallion almost tripping over a rock under the snow that rolled down the side of the mountain. "That was too fast. Slow down."

"Too fast?" she asked, thinking about this and about the visions she had a few nights ago. "All right, I shall slow down."

After a few moments, he spoke again.

"I think I understand now," he said quietly. "Because we know each other so well, there is no room for ambiguity. And let us face it, we have not had many people to practice on."

"Very true," she answered.

"But because I know you very well, I cannot misunderstand you when you think about the night sky for instance. For you, it represents excitement. But to someone else, it just might mean fear, for most plebeians are afraid of the dark."

"Ridiculous!" she exclaimed.

"Ferrighan was afraid of spending a night with me in a dark cave," said Tammutyen, sniggering. "You should have been there to feel his thoughts – worst of the worst, I tell you. Nice horror stories they might have been."

"Why are people afraid of the dark? It is so irrational," she said thoughtfully. "But, I suppose, for them it is something unknown, something they cannot see or feel with their senses, and this is why they feel fear. But if they learned how to look with the eyes of the Dark side, the concept of the unknown would need serious redefining."

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Point is, our communication is easy because we know each other so well and this is why I have not understood exactly what I have been doing."

"You should practice on a Jedi," she laughed from the back, her stallion stumbling forward a little and flared its nostrils. They finally managed to descend to the plateau and the horses seemed to be glad about it.

"Which chance he just might get," said the voice of the Dark Lord. "As much as I approve of your theorising and association games, I want you to hurry up. We shall spend the night in the cave beyond the lake."

When they arrived at the aforementioned cave, a thin line of something which was definitely not snow was showing on the horizon. The Dark Lord sat down on a piece of rock and lit up a pipe. Tammutyen and Tarralyanna, having unsaddled the horses, let them go and prepared the cave for sleeping.

"That is the mountain range of Ja'Talli," said the Dark Lord as they joined him, pointing his finger ahead. "And beyond it lies the land of Gnath. The cradle of the Dark side."

His apprentices sat down and looked around themselves with interest. The majority of the land of Gnath was left unexplored, for not many returned to tell the tale about it and to actually draw maps of it. There were three great volcanoes known to the people of Horukaan, but they never bothered giving them names, for a sane person, a normal person, would never even mention Gnath, let along be interested in its topology.

"I have wandered the land, hanging between life and death for months," he answered their thoughts. "And some parts of it I know very well indeed. However, my master's tomb lies very deep in the land – it shall take us a week to get there, I presume. If not more."

"My Master," said Tammutyen quietly, coming back from the fire where he went to light up his cigar and was now returning with it glowing in his hand. "What shall we do with our horses? They cannot go with us – can they?"

"That is the interesting bit," said the Dark Lord, chuckling darkly. "No, they cannot. We must leave them in the valley of Jin; it the last patch of green before the kingdom of fire and lava. There they shall be safe and we can proceed on foot."

"Do you believe, Master," asked Tarralyanna, "that the Jedi are there?"

"Oh, yes," said the Dark Lord, his eyes giving a wild glint. "Yes, they are most persistent, are they not? In all of the wrong things, unsurprisingly. Instead of working on themselves and equipping themselves with the necessary power and strength to face a potential Sith, they are exploring and prowling around. But when the time comes, I trust you shall show them just how deluded they are, and what it exactly means to duel a Sith knight."

"Ooh, my Master, you have no idea," said Tammutyen in a hungry voice, Tarralyanna snorting with laughter and staring at her feet. The Dark Lord also laughed, casting an aside glance at him; smoke was emanating from under their hoods and ascending high into the cold mountain air. Right then, Tarralyanna thought how the three of them were inseparable and were meant to stay together. She could not imagine what might happen if her Master died.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Their descent into the valley of Jin was very swift and abrupt; their horses now got the chance to show just how strong and agile they were and their excellent breeding was now showing in its best light. Although the three Sith helped them with the Force when it was necessary, the horses managed and carried them down a rocky path that was leading from the last snowy plateau. Already there, Tarralyanna could feel warm whiffs of air thrashing into her face as she rode, coming from the north, and she lowered her hood with great relief. A shimmer of hot air hovered above the ground in the distance, suffused with deep red, promising heat and hard breathing. From that side of Gotan, the mountain ranges suffered a sharp cut, and it seemed almost as though someone cut them off with a knife, to allow the volcanic land to spread up to the very fringes of ice-capped giants. Just like Gnath, some parts of Gotan were left unexplored, especially the kingdom of eternal ice and snow beyond the giant of Strem-Nah, which has never seen the grace of sun, forever veiled in cloud and mist, reaching out to the sky. Thus Gotan was a convenient place to hide secrets and an excellent place to dispose of either objects, or persons; for in the deep snow and storm, only the God Narri-wath could see and know what happened to them.

A deep gorge gaped before them in the distance as they rode toward the valley of Jin, dividing the two lands, and the two Sith concluded that their Master meant them to leap across, or something similar. In the depths of the gorge, hundreds and hundreds of feet below, raged the third river which would finally join the other two to become the famous Aalyan river. It snaked through the First Continent, where Gotan was situated, and poured into the ocean, the cradle of the world of Lateen and the kingdom of magic of the Caelians. This river, gigantic as it was, was nothing compared to the size of Aalyan river. It snaked through the bowel of Horukaan, cutting its way through its insides, to finally break out as a violent waterfall in the green valleys beyond Gotan. In the ancient Gotan language its name was Ma-Taat-Har, which stood for 'the tongue of fire'.

The three Sith sat to meditate in the valley, hoods over their faces. Tarralyanna's excitement was steadily growing as they approached the volcanic land. She could feel the Dark side emanate from it and it was calling to her; its secretiveness, indwelling the dark caves and red hills; its cruelty and cold justice for all, for it killed whoever could not survive there; its bubbling, boiling, heated insides, that constantly stirred and raged, never resting, just like the Sith; and the darkest of the dark nights, for the vault of violet could not be visible from Gnath – looking up, through the day, all one could see would be the distant yellowish trail of the Luth sun, its light dampened by the veil of heat emanating from the volcanoes. The Dark Lord only mentioned these few details to his apprentices; but if he survived there for years, if he actually lived there, he must indeed know the paths leading through it be familiar with the secrets of Gnath.

They lay to sleep, exhausted but itching with anticipation. Tarralyanna was playing with Tammutyen's hair, her head beside his. His eyes were glinting in the faint light of the Parokh moon like those of a dangerous beast, lurking from the bushes.

("Do you ever think,") she whispered in Sith, her tongue pronouncing the harsh words with ease, ("about kissing someone else but me?")

He looked at her in surprise.

("I have tried,") he said with a sigh. ("But I have not spotted any one who would not revolt me.")

She laughed softly and gave him a peck on the cheek; he was painfully sincere, and would always tell her exactly what he was thinking.

("I am serious, Tammutyen,") she said softly, glancing over his scarred face, ("Are you not curious? How does it feel?")

("A little,") he said, thinking about it and propping his head against his hand.

("Do you never wonder how it might be with someone else?") she asked persistently, staring at him with her sapphire eyes.

("I might enjoy jumping atop of some scared Albinian woman coming down from the well with a water jug, ripping her clothes off and biting her all over,") he said seriously. ("But that is not exactly what you meant.")

("You have not done that, have you?") she asked suspiciously.

("Surely not,") he shook his head. ("I hate to imagine what Master would do to me if I did.")

She smiled at him, staring into his dark eyes. She knew that making love was not exactly what would tempt him – but inflicting someone pain just might.

"Your eyes got darker only after your transformation," she said quietly. She knew he hated to remember what a weakling and an average Albinian he used to be, but she decided that his aversion had to be dealt with, sooner or later. "And your brown hair fell out… Do you remember it? It was so thin and strange, and it was always standing up. I like it so much better now."

"Me too," he said, grinning at her in the dark.

"But have you ever wondered," she whispered, "how come our Master still has black hair? He does not look a day older than the time he invited the two of us to dine with him for the first time. I believe I was four. I remember being so small that my head was at the table level and Peetah had to bring a few pillows for me to sit on."

"Trust me, I have thought about it a lot," he said seriously. The look on his face assured her of this. "And I shall tell you something else." He leaned toward her and spoke into her ear, his cold lips brushing against hers, making her shiver. "I cannot smell him. It is as though he has no blood at all."

She stared at him, at loss for words. They were normally so caught up with their work and daily routine that they had neither the time nor the mental capacity to ponder such things, as interesting and important as they might seem.

"Is there anyone else whom you cannot smell?" she asked suspiciously.

"No," he answered. "Although the scents are different, they are still scents. Perhaps it is because he is concealing his powers, but there it is. Of course, I cannot smell myself so I would not know…"

They trailed off into silence, thinking about this. Given that neither of them were human, it would be only logical to presume that the Dark Lord also was not human. The unanswered question was left hanging in the air and the two fell asleep beside each other.


	18. Chapter 17 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

This chapter has been very difficult for me to write and it is completely dedicated to Sith philosophy as I see it.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XVII – Death is my promise

Tarralyanna opened her eyes abruptly, sensing her Master near her. When she looked up, she saw him leaning over the two of them.

"Time for breakfast, my apprentices," he said seriously. "And then we shall take our leave."

She could barely put two bites in her mouth, so excited she was, and, looking aside, she noticed that Tammutyen was just as excited as she was. However, she noticed that he drank two of his jars in a row, as though preparing himself for a week of starving, and was now wolfing down a large bloody steak the Dark Lord brought him. It seemed that he had been hunting.

"I have refilled our water skins," said the Dark Lord after Tammutyen wiped off his bloody mouth and gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. "You will carry them on your backs. And each of you shall take as much food as you can carry. As for sleeping, you require nothing. Your cloaks will suffice."

Their horses were happily galloping through the valley, chasing each other, and enjoying the tasty green grass. The valley of Jin seemed to be an oasis and Tarralyanna wondered at the existence of it; it seemed almost as though it was dropped down out of the blue, so fantastic it was. Blossoming vegetation, beautiful grass, flowers, all one could hope for after a long journey through ice and snow. It must be the river, she thought; but then again, how come valleys like this did not appear anywhere else along the rim of Gotan, except here?

Swinging the water skins, pouches and bags filled with food over their shoulders, the two followed the Dark Lord who was carrying his with ease, his head obscured by the size of his bags. He led them along the rim of the valley and for several hours they walked in silence, not noticing the weight they were carrying due to the immense excitement. But when they finally broke out of the trees and bushes dotted with red berries, they saw the land of Gnath in its full horror, spreading before them like an abandoned battlefield, cooling off after a bloodshed.

As far as the eye could see, there was hill atop of hill of russet soil; here and there, something moved and gleamed in the scanty light, and this, Tarralyanna concluded, was the hot lava, trailing down the hills like spit of the mother Horukaan. As she was staring at it, speechless, there was a distant explosion, accompanied by a rumbling sound that ascertained her that this was a volcano eruption. Hot air vibrated up to hundred feet above ground, like an unworldly mist. The horizon was painted scarlet, a reflection of magma and dry, red soil.

"Great Darkness," gasped Tammutyen, staring at it. "It is beautiful."

"Beautiful and terrible," whispered Tarralyanna back. "I have never seen anything like it."

"It is not just the topology, of course, my students," said the Dark Lord who was walking ahead of them. "It is the Dark side that is making it so beautiful. This is why common people regard it as horrible; but you only see beauty."

He gave them a smile and then unexpectedly veered straight toward the gorge, leading them down a dangerous rocky path. When they reached the place where he was standing, they set their eyes upon a very narrow, and very long something that seemed to be a bridge, leading across the gorge. It was an arc made out of lava, graciously extending from the volcanic ground to the place where they were standing now. Thus a person, who did not know it was there, would never find it, for it was invisible to the eye from above, unless someone dared to descend the steep and dangerous path they just descended. Deep below, the river of Ma-Taat-Har was raging and swirling, lost in mist that was rising from its foaming surface and enveloping it, shrouding it from sight.

"Follow me," said the Dark Lord, laughing at the awed looks on their faces, adjusting his bag and then stepping lightly upon the bridge. For him, it was easy; for Tarralyanna, being so light and thin, it was not so hard as well. But one Tammutyen's foot was only slightly smaller than the width of the bridge, not to mention his weight and size.

"Uh-oh," he muttered, glancing up to see his Master easily walk toward the adjacent side, not looking back. Tarralyanna was already on the bridge, her eyes closed, orienting herself in the space solely with the use of the Dark side. Tammutyen, however, was quite sceptical to this approach; he decided to use his eyes, for what if something happens, panic overtakes him, and he slips? He stepped onto the bridge, and walked swiftly forward, his eyes fixed firmly upon the red line that was now skimming under his feet. He was putting one foot in front of the other by swaying his hips, which technique he found awkward and complicated. It was not something he was accustomed to, but he kept on going, faster and faster, until he found that the bridge suddenly got very broad – a hand seized him, and he noted, with a pang, that he had already arrived to the other side, Tarralyanna holding him by the upper arm and grinning broadly at him. The Dark Lord was already ascending the slippery slope leading up.

Tammutyen was angry at her for patronizing him, while she could not resist making fun of him. He smacked her hand and she would have reached out to retaliate, if there was not for the fact that she just noted their Master was already halfway up. She tugged Tammutyen by the sleeve, giving him a warning glance and then got to her knees to climb the slope herself.

The soil was slippery and smooth, due to the fact that this was actually cooled lava, of some volcano that existed here at some point. There were so many of them and so many new appeared, whereas some of the old ones became inactive, that to actually try to make a map of Gnath would be a futile attempt. However, there were some things that were certain in Gnath, some pattern in the world of chaos, seemingly; and the Dark Lord was familiar with them. They followed him closely, feeling wafts of unbearably dry and hot air whip their faces, the ground under their feet at times slippery, at times dry, but never soft. The Dark Lord zigzagged, at times pausing to reach out with the Dark side, his eyes closed, apparently orienting himself, and on these occasions his two students stood as quiet and as Force-inactive as possible, to allow him full space for manoeuvring. Then he would nod to himself, and turn back, retracing his steps and then leading them in the opposite direction. They climbed atop of hills which they thought were volcanoes, but which were quite cold and unmovable, and descended into dry, smooth valleys. This tracking was apparently exhausting to their Master, who paused to set a camp for them after ten hours of such work; he sat down without a word in the shade of a tall red hill, taking down his skin with water and his bag, and the two followed his example, not asking anything. They did not eat, having decided they were going to spare the food rations. Tarralyanna was used to eating little, and she did not mind. But Tammutyen's stomach was rumbling audibly as he dropped to a seat beside her, his eyes half-closed.

It seemed like an entirely different world; there were no direct sources of light, except for the scanty few rays of Luth penetrating the veil of heat. Eerie, magnificent red glow was everywhere they looked; and the land itself was so barren and so devoid of life, that if one was alone here, one could be completely alone, and the Dark side would permeate all, passing through all as though through stone. No plants, no animals, no insects of any kind could survive here, and even the Sith, who loved warmth, unbearable warmth, found it was too hot in the volcanic land of Gnath. There were no bubbles or pockets in the Force here, Tarralyanna perceived, normally caused by living things, and all she could feel was her Master and Tammutyen. This was puzzling but at the same time it felt liberating; she kept surrounding herself with the Dark side just to savour the feeling once again. In Gnath, she found, it was so very easy.

Lady Tarralyanna was sitting with a rag draped over her chest and tied at the back, for she concluded that her shirt was so drenched with her sweat it was unusable. Her ringed hands were holding a flask with water, as drinking from the skins directly was very troublesome, her hair tied up at the top of her head, her glance sweeping the dry land of Gnath. Tammutyen followed her example, got rid of the wet shirt, rolled up his pants and tightened his already wet hair atop of his head. The Dark Lord, however, sat in the shadows, still fully dressed, very silent but fully Force-active, his senses sweeping the land. At long last he opened his eyes and smiled at his students.

"The Jedi are due west," he said, which proclamation made the both of them glare at him. "They are not well at all." He chuckled softly in an amused fashion.

"Have they sensed us, my Master?" asked Tarralyanna.

"I doubt it," said her Master, still smiling. "For even if they have, they would believe us to be merely a reflection of the power of the Dark side indwelling Gnath. But I daresay that their fear is bereaving them of the ability to use the light side of the Force with the whole of their ability. One of them, however, has a distant whisper of the Dark side about her. This is the female you spoke about, Tarralyanna."

"But…" she whispered, startled, straightening up. "How is that possible, my Master? She is a Jedi, is she?"

"Oh yes," answered the Dark Lord thoughtfully – it seemed that he thought about it a lot. "But for some reason, she seems to attract the Dark side. It is undoubtedly very interesting."

Tarralyanna tried stretching out her senses to feel the Jedi, but all she could feel was the vast land of Gnath, the stirring of the lava and the raging explosions echoing it. Toward north, she could sense nothing but vastness, trailing away into nothingness without offering her a sense of dimension, and at first she thought her senses could not stretch far enough, deep enough; until she concluded that there was some sort of a barrier there, something that swallowed up her senses like a black hole, devouring all but not showing itself to anyone or anything. This, she realized, must be their final destination. She could sense no Jedi; and she was not the least disappointed. Her Master had powers she could only dream about, and she only began emitting faint streaks of thunder from her fingertips after a lot of everyday practice. She was cackling like mad with glee as she saw silver sparks shoot out of her fingers and disperse into thin air. This however made Tammutyen even more irrationally jealous, if that was possible.

The first night they spent in the volcanic land was soothing and beautiful, mysterious and magical, Tarralyanna thought. The heat subsided a little, enough to make their breathing easier, and complete darkness fell on the land. Tarralyanna, being so weary she did not bother to use her senses when she was coming back from the skins with water, going there to fetch an apple for dinner, almost fell over Tammutyen, who was already lying on his back, ready to sleep. Absolute, complete darkness – that was a tease to the Force senses and an ease for the sight and all other physical senses. Tammutyen groaned, but felt too tired to say or do anything.

There was no wind at all. The following day, the three Sith advanced further and deeper into the volcanic land. The ice-capped giants were now a distant memory, glowering at them from the distance. But now it became apparent how much natural endurance each of them had. Tarralyanna advanced in a light pace, jumping over difficult bits, her long legs allowing her to have the same stride length as Tammutyen. Tammutyen, however, had problems of his own. He prided himself on speed and inhuman strength; but endurance was not one of his fortes. Thus Tammutyen was trudging along behind his sister, his bag cutting deep into his flesh, his massive chest heaving up and down as he breathed with difficulty. Of course, he would rather die than complain; for if he was so weak he could not follow the Dark Lord anymore, then it would be for the best for him to die and spare him the shame of having such an apprentice.

The soil always looked the same, wherever they went; but Tarralyanna's suspicions were confirmed. She was checking every now and then to see how far they were from the barrier devouring her senses and unsurprisingly, they were nearing it, though they were not approaching it in a straight line. Her face covered with red dust which was floating around and which adhered to her sweaty skin, she followed the Dark Lord without a word the whole day, looking back a few times to check how Tammutyen was doing. Needless to say, Tammutyen dropped down to a seat at the end of that day, feeling too exhausted to feel relieved, his head dangling between his knees, breathing very deeply and noisily. Tarralyanna got to her feet and went to rummage through their bags. She placed something into his hand and smiled down at him. He simply nodded at her whereas she dropped to a seat beside him, pulling out an enormous orange fruit from her bag and placing it on her knees to eat it, while he accepted his jar with blood from her and opened it, sniffing audibly, hunger gleaming in his eyes.

It is so easy to speak about endurance and pain, of great strains while sitting comfortably at home, she thought as she lay down on the warm ground that evening beside Tammutyen, who reached out with his hand to give her cheek a caress. He fell asleep the very same instant he withdrew his hand and placed it on his chest. His soft snoring was like a lullaby to Tarralyanna, it was something familiar in this strange land and soon she fell asleep.

They were now so deep in Gnath that they could not see the mountains any more – only the vastness of russet, the hot air blurring their physical sight and making their eyes water. They arrived at the peak of a tall, blackened hill which undoubtedly used to be an old volcano. The Dark Lord, having arrived at the peak, stopped and waved with his hand, calling them to join him. Without a word, the two Sith approached him and gasped at the sight.

Below was a tall obelisk, made out of lava rock entirely, with Sith glyphs all around it and over it. A pile of stones was surrounding it, and there was a taste of the Dark side around it that made Tarralyanna quite certain that this was something very important, something made by a powerful Sith, but a very long time ago. They descended the slope and approached the tall red stone. Looking up, Tarralyanna could see a hint of the Luth sun hiding behind the peak of the obelisk, the Sith glyphs beaming down upon her. She began to read.

"_Through power I am born, in the silent twilight; in fire and torment I am forged, strengthened through trial; and in the eternal Darkness I shall find my rest, in its mighty embrace. You will forever be my Master and my teacher, mighty Lord Ka'Th'Spaa_."

Tarralyanna realised with a pang that this was something her Master made, and was staring up at it in awe. There were more inscriptions, on either side, and, uncertain whether she was allowed to read at all, for this seemed to be something quite intimate, she looked aside surreptitiously, to see her Master staring at it fondly with a glint in his eye, nodding at her and gesturing with his hand toward the peak of the obelisk, obviously encouraging her to read on.

"_Teach me how to give myself wholly unto the mighty Darkness, and find my Self therein,_" read the southern side.

'Darkness', meaning the power of the Dark side, was ''T'Hem'Kaath' in Sith, whereas 'darkness', meaning the darkness of the soul, the darkness of senses and the incongruence of the soul and mind, was 'Lan'ha'Keth'. Tarralyanna always found it very confusing that Albinian or any other language did not have three words for darkness. The third word, of course, represented the actual, palpable absence of light, meaning, 'M'hoth'. However, she ran across the word 'Self' only on a few occasions, and could not remember the meaning of the word straight away; and now she quietly pointed at it, with her Master whispering out its translation, still smiling.

"_I shall abandon all that I am, and become the name you have given me_," read the western side, "_I shall bear it with honour and strive to accomplish more, to justify your trust in me, and to bring glory to the Dark side_."

"_I am the walker in shadow, I am the secret whisper behind the dark trees; and in the night, I shall rise to greet it, and to celebrate the absence of garish light. And from the fire of deep, my voice shall rise, and it shall echo the world like a tempest, shake the oceans and make the skies tremble. I do not exist anymore. I give myself wholly unto you, o great, mighty Darkness; teach me of your ways, and your secrets,_" read the northern side.

"I have made it when I was leaving for Gotan," said the Dark Lord, coming to a halt beside her, with Tammutyen approaching them from aside, his eyes wide as he read line after line. "The glyphs still stand." He reached out with his hand, and gently touched the surface. The shining black letters seemed to absorb all light, and even though Tarralyanna could not think of anything other way to do this but to apply tar or actually burn the glyphs into the cold lava, she was certain it was neither.

"But his body does not lie here," he said, backing away with an air of respect, what was something the two have never seen or felt in their lives. "No, I made this as a monument to what he was and to the work he had done on Horukaan. His body rests in his tomb. Let us go, my apprentices."

He used the word 'work' which signified the great path of a Sith warrior which he walks either between his Birth to his Coming, or between his Coming and his Transition, what confused Tarralyanna, for he used it often enough with her and Tammutyen. Tarralyanna understood she and Tammutyen had work to do, but her Master? Nevertheless, he could not have become such a powerful Sith, such a powerful Dark Lord, if he had not trained and worked hard. Tammutyen visualised him practising something like the b'daars from dusk till dawn, his feet digging into the red soil, sweat pouring down his face, whereas Tarralyanna saw him sitting surrounded with formulae and complicated calculations.

The said Dark Lord departed due north once again and the two followed without a word, casting a few backward glances at the beautiful obelisk, the black letters gleaming as though reminding them why there were here and what was expected of them as his apprentices. He gave away everything while he was in training – and undoubtedly they were expected to do the same. The scenery was no longer an endless succession of hills and valleys, but one great valley. The ground was made out of fine, russet sand, which felt like a very strange change from what they have encountered so far. The air was unbreathable as ever, but Tarralyanna noted they were approaching the barrier now; the devouring, great mouth of the Dark side, so packed with power that her ears felt as though they were going to burst, if she continued to use her Force senses. She dropped her use of them and heard Tammutyen softly exclaim behind her, apparently sensing it himself.

They walked no longer than one hour, before up ahead, in between a few smaller elevations, for they could hardly be called hills, something began to show in the distance, to slowly loom up on the horizon. The first Tarralyanna felt when she spotted it was fear. Panic flooded her and she felt unable to breathe; until she became conscious of this and firmly pushed these irrational reactions aside. 'I am a servant to the mighty Dark side, of whom and of what should I be afraid?' she thought, annoyed. Suddenly the buzzing in her ears subsided and the air of threat vanished. Reaching out with the Force again, she found, to her surprise, that the barrier was gone. She could now sweep with her senses across and over the building and its many rooms.

"Very good," said their Master from up front, turning his head only partially to be able to speak to them. "The tomb granted you access. It recognised you as the servants of the Dark side."

Tarralyanna could not stop wondering at this as they walked on, nearing the tomb – how did this work? She just reacted as a Sith would – she pushed away the fear and replaced it with Rage. But no Jedi would ever do that, she realised with a pang.

The stairs leading up to the tall, rectangle-shaped entrance without a door, with a horizontal beam cut perfectly and placed over it, were very steep and crude. Tarralyanna and Tammutyen lingered before the doorway, looking up. A triangle with a circle above it was placed there, painted, or however that might have been done, on the russet volcanic rock. There was something drawn within the triangle as well. A three-petalled red flower, on a black background – the triangle was also red. One petal was longer than the others, and was reaching out to the top of the triangle. Tarralyanna had never seen this symbol before, in no book she ever read. The circle was also red, but the inside of it was black, and there were scarlet rays descending down upon the triangle, reminding Tarralyanna of a picture of a sun.

She jerked her head to Tammutyen, who was staring up at it with his mouth half-open. They exchanged a significant glances and quickly followed their Master into the tomb. The first they perceived was deadly silence. It was a silence absent of any emotion, of any thought, of anything really, but the Dark side. It was in everything; it lived in every pillar and every fire stand, all made out of red stone. As he passed, their Master pointed his finger at each of such stands, igniting a fire. No fear lived in those halls, where their footsteps sounded like terrible noise – only power, ineffable power, indwelling all and permeating all; silent, booming power, roaring without a voice, awful in its simplicity and terrible in its strength; swift and readily tingling under the fingertips of a Sith, who had the strength to use it and wield it, and merciless and absolutely ruthless to all those who were his enemies. It was impossible not to be awed before such might and the both Sith knew what it took to command it. All those too greedy for power and unable to control their emotions, with the burning desire to command, to destroy, to control – all those perished under the mighty fist of the Dark side, sooner or later. For they were not fit to command it; they were not fit to call themselves the servants of the most powerful master that ever existed.

The Dark Lord disappeared in one of the rooms to his left and they quietly followed him, now wearing their cloaks and their sad'khai, their hoods over their heads, as it was the ancient Sith custom. They have put them on before they entered the tomb, believing that they ought to pay their respect to the great Dark Lord of the Second Age that way, and that it would be absolutely inappropriate to enter his last resting place half-naked. Their Master was standing in a rather small room, with a tiny square window at the top of it, which allowed ghostly, faint red light to penetrate the room. There was a small rag in one corner of the room and a fire stand which was blackened with use. A few rotting pieces of parchment were piled up beside it.

"This was the place where I have slept and studied during my days in teaching," said the Dark Lord in a very quiet, solemn voice, glancing over the room with melancholy written in his dark eyes. "This is what remained of my diary, the unfilled pages," he pointed at the parchment. "And this is what used to be my bed," he pointed at the rag. Then he gave a small smile and turned to his speechless students. And they thought they had it bad! This was more like a prison cell than a sleeping chamber. Tarralyanna thought guiltily of her large, four-poster bed, with black organza falling from all sides to the floor, silk sheets and covers made of mountain sheep's wool.

"I was a man without a name," said the Dark Lord quietly. "And where I slept and worked did not matter to me. And I thought about nothing else for years, but about studying the Sith doctrine and following my Master's teachings."

Then he turned around and left the room. Tarralyanna and Tammutyen exchanged a glance, understanding each other without words. They were shocked with what they have seen. This experience hardened up their Master in such a way that he could command his body at will; that his will was steely; that his purpose became greater than himself, greater than the flesh. This is what it took him; and this is probably why he had been so harsh with them when they were little. It was nothing compared with the price he had to pay for his power and his knowledge.

"This is where my Master trained me in battle skills, taught me of b'daars, and transferred all of his wisdom to me," said their Master, standing in a vast room. They glanced around themselves. The same square holes which were actually windows laced one wall, having been drilled in the wall close to the ceiling, which was very high. There was however not one bit of dust, not one ounce of dirt therein, even though decades passed since this room had last been used. There was a pile of metallic objects in one corner, which the Dark Lord approached in a slow, solemn pace. He picked something up and withdrew it from the pile, giving it a wave. It was a sword, a very old sword, for it was almost serrated on its sides due to its frequent use. The Dark Lord held it up with a melancholic smile and gestured for the two to approach him. Tarralyanna leaned over and looked at the sword. An old seal of Gotan had been engraved on the hilt, but which changed its colour and shape with time, she thought. The metal has gotten dark red over the years.

"That is neither dust, nor rust," said her Master, giving a quick smile and glancing over the blade, pointing at the hilt. "That is my blood. Master desired me to leave it on my sword to remind me of all the times I made a mistake."

Tammutyen's jaw dropped as he stared at it. It was definitely red, so he must have been Albinian. Must have been, he thought, what did not necessarily implicate that he still was. But the blood did not dry out and peel off the metal; it remained there, as though adhering to the hilt by magic, a surviving token of his Master's efforts.

There were several arrows on that pile as well and a bow made of highly elastic wood. All of that was lying there, untouched, preserved, as though waiting for their master to come back for them, knowing he would do so one day. Alongside one of the walls was an elevation and a narrow table resembling a shelf made out of stone, as everything else in the tomb. There were two fire stands, to either side of the elevation, and something which resembled a book.

"In the evening I used to put down everything I have done that day. My Master wanted me to keep a visible record of my work," said the Dark Lord, glancing over the book, and then quickly looking away. "And this is where I fell into a fire," he pointed at a corner of the room. "It was an accident, but one I remember very well, because the fire almost destroyed all of my hair."

The Dark Lord left the room, smiling to himself and the two followed him.

"Here he used to give me food," said the Dark Lord, standing in a very small room with a fireplace, or rather something that resembled a fireplace. There was something beside it that looked as though it had been used as a bowl, but basically it was just a piece of volcanic rock which had been hollowed out. As Tammutyen came inside, he noted there was a hole cut in the stone floor and he could heard strange, lapping sounds coming from that direction. Is it... _water,_ he wondered? Something resembling a bucket stood next to the hole, with an old, brown rope attached to its middle.

"Yes, water," said the Dark Lord, smiling at the looks on their faces. Tarralyanna exclaimed and leaned over the hole. "And you will be much surprised if I tell you there are fish and other sea creatures living in it, along with sea grass and all other sea plants that I ate while I was here. I used the fire to prepare my meal, and then my dagger to cut it." He pointed at a small knife lying at the foot of the dark, gaping fireplace.

"But… where is the water coming from, my Master?" whispered Tarralyanna.

"The great sea of Gnath," said her Master matter-of-factly, straightening up. "The dark sea that has never seen the sunlight. All fish and creatures are blind and need no oxygen to survive. That is why their flesh tastes a little strange, is however of peculiar composition which makes it highly nutritious. The water is somewhat thick compared to what you are used to, as it swarms with organisms; but it is sweet and drinkable and it kept me alive for all the years I have spent here. However—" he looked at his students thoughtfully, "—we still have quite enough water to use. But I should like you to try this one out, nevertheless. And I shall catch a Hanyii for you – the sea serpent. I daresay Tarralyanna will find some use of its fangs."

He gave a mysterious chuckle and once again led the way out of the room. Tarralyanna cast a glance at the hole, as though expecting a serpent to leap out of it and felt Tammutyen's hand on her upper arm, urging her to go. The great dark sea of Gnath, kept spinning in her mind as they walked down the corridor, their Master's cloak billowing behind him as he strode ahead of them, knowing every inch of the tomb, apparently. There were no records of it, even in the oldest geographic accounts of Horukaan. Although it was mysterious, it somehow seemed very logical. Of course, if the Dark Lord spent years here, he had to drink something.

They descended the wide, russet stairs leading down from the main corridor and found themselves in a vast hall with a vaulted ceiling. Whereas the rest of the tomb was plain and lacked any details, this place seemed to be the exact opposite. The fire stands were ornamented with gold and were glittering with blood-red jewels, the walls were covered with beautiful patterns of red and black, and the floor was polished and gleaming. In the centre of the space was a grave, the russet stone painted black and reflecting the fires which their Master ignited the very moment he stepped into the room. He was now standing facing it, the look on his face solemn and serious. There were Sith glyphs engraved in gold over the grave, which was covered with silk. The Silk looked as though it had just been placed there – it had not changed its colour, nor lost its shine. The line of glyphs which were the largest, being engraved sheer over the grave, roughly translated as: 'Death is my promise'. They supposed that this was either the name of the ancient Dark Lord in the Dark side, or simply a phrase he identified himself with.

"Here lies my Master," said the Dark Lord, in a very quiet, solemn voice, almost a whisper. "The greatest Sith Lord that ever lived."

Slowly, he approached the grave, whereas the two stood with their heads deeply bowed, sensing enormous power emanating from the grave, strange Sith power, as they called it. Until now the only power they felt had been each other's or that of their Master, but this one was quite unfamiliar. The Dark Lord approached the grave and placed one hand upon the stone gently, and then lowered himself to his knees, with his hand still upon it. The two remained unmovable, staring at him without a word. There was something in this gesture that made Tarralyanna gasp. He had never forgotten his Master, even though he had been with the Force for decades. Tarralyanna wondered whether he treated him as her Master treated them, when they were obedient and hard-working, that is. She read a lot about him, about what the legends said about him and always envisioned him as an exceptionally strong man (the Sith legends said that he had 'pictures on his skin' and Tarralyanna concluded that he tattooed the whole of his body with oaths, mottos and various symbols) and that he was merciless in battle. When he fought, she read, he wielded a short spear, one side of which more looked like a blade of a sword, with spikes adorning it from all sides – the legendary Ken'tha'Raa, of which their Master made a replica and kept it in his study – with which he could behead and tear apart his enemies at the same time. In the Albinian legends he was considered not human at all, but a product of a marriage between a demon and an Albinian woman.

"My Master," whispered the Dark Lord, in a soft voice. "I have done it. I have founded a new Sith Order, trained my apprentices as you have trained me and I have brought them here, to find their roots."

Silence fell on the tomb after these words have been whispered out. The Dark Lord knelt with his head bowed, caressing the stone and the black silk. But then, something whispered back; Tarralyanna looked around herself; her skin began to crawl as she sensed this whisper becoming louder, until it literally spilled over the room like a dark raging wave.

"You have done well, my apprentice," a voice carried through the room, although it was not audible by physical hearing. Tarralyanna gulped. His spirit, of course, would be most attracted to the resting place of his body. Then the whisper fluttered around her, and she held her breath, closing her eyes and giving in to the Dark side; the icy cold presence swirled around her and twirled like a shadow, inspecting her.

"Daughter of the stars," it wheezed into her ear, making her every hair stand on its end. She dropped to her knees slowly, because she did not know what else to do.

"M'Dooh (my Lord)," she whispered back. The presence intensified its scrutiny.

It whispered out her name in Sith and she felt it listen at her thoughts, dig through her mind, a forceful, unyielding hand that did not even consider it might stumble across resistance, for its will was such that all fell before it. She had felt such a will countless number of times before – in her Master.

"Saragon," whispered the voice, brushing against the weapon that hung solemnly at her belt, underneath her cloak. It questioned her will, her motives, her strength of mind; many images sprang before her mind that she did not invoke on her own, and she waited patiently, giving the presence full access, knowing that this was the Dark Lord of the Second Age and that she should show him respect. Her meditations, her trainings, her performance in the land of Quentaa, flashes of her childhood, and even – she flinched – a picture of her, very small, while the whole of her hair was still violet, crying in her dark chambers, because she had been punished by her Master, deprived of candles and food and locked up. Tarralyanna did not remember it ever happening. She must have been four and she felt panic at being left alone without her caretaker.

The presence suddenly left her, and fluttered away toward Tammutyen, who was already on his knees, his broad back giving a shiver as he bent his head forward.

"Yes…" wheezed the voice beside his ears. "The invincible creature of the night, the hand of Rage."

The presence brushed against his Ptah, which he had not taken off the whole time they were there and he felt it caress the blades. The memory of his transformation sprang before his mind; all of the times his Master whipped him as punishment, insults Tammutyen kept muttering when he was alone in his chambers, hating his Master for what he was forcing him to do; his uncontrollable anger that smashed and destroyed everything in his vicinity until he trained it and harnessed it, learned how to use it, rather than be a slave to it; the time he raped Tarralyanna and the overwhelming feeling of joy he felt while doing it; the battle in Gangar; and even – he only just remembered this – the time he tried to escape through the Temple window and was awaited by his Master outside, who knew what he was about to do and who whipped him until he passed out. He must have been four or five. It was such a traumatizing experience that he purposefully forced it out of his mind, but now it had been brought back upon the surface. And the next moment, the presence was gone, fluttering back to the Dark Lord, leaving Tammutyen strangely empty, alone with his thoughts and memories.

"You have taught them well," it whispered through the Dark side, making all flames flicker. "Unconventionally. Developed your own theories and applied them, in addition to what I have taught you. You have become your name, my apprentice. Your Master is very proud of you."

"I have worked very hard not to disappoint you, my Master," answered the Dark Lord, caressing the grave. "I have worked hard to renew the Sith Order."

Although Tarralyanna and Tammutyen have been taught to address the Dark Lord with respect, there were still times they had been impertinent and rebellious. And she wondered whether disciplinary measures have ever been necessary with their Master.

"Go and take care of your apprentices," whispered the voice. There was a gentle extension of the presence toward the Dark Lord and Tarralyanna thought she could feel him touch him, caress his hand, but she could not tell, for her Master's head was bowed very low and the presence was a blurred shape in the Force. "And then come back and stay with me."

"Yes, my Master," said the Dark Lord, getting to his feet and backing away from the grave, waving for the two to follow. They bowed toward the grave and left the room quickly, not wishing to disturb the Lord Ka'Th'Spaa's spirit, as it now fluttered around the grave. The Dark Lord lead them upstairs and showed them into a small room with a larger window than the ones they have seen downstairs, which had a view of the obelisk.

"You shall sleep here," he told them. "You eat something and meditate. I shall come back for you. But until then, I want you to be quiet and not to disturb me."

"Of course, Master," said Tarralyanna, dropping down to a seat on the floor and dragging her bag toward herself, meaning to take out some food, while Tammutyen merely nodded. The Dark Lord turned on the spot and disappeared down the stairs.

Tarralyanna withdrew her orange fruit from the bag as quietly as possible, and saw Tammutyen sniff a raw steak his Master cut for him and then put it down.

"I do not feel like eating," he whispered to her. "I feel so full."

"I know what you mean," she whispered back, staring at her fruit. She sighed and put it away, embracing Tammutyen around the waist and placing her head on his shoulder. They looked through the window, their glances resting on the obelisk. And in that moment they decided to make something as beautiful for their Master as well, to show him just how much they respect him, for all he taught them, for all of his patience and all of his wisdom. Even though there were times they doubted themselves, the Dark Lord never did.

oooooooooooooooo

The Dark Lord reappeared hours later, looking a little absent, his dark eyes wandering around the room. Tarralyanna and Tammutyen were lying beside each other and talking quietly, but when they heard, rather than sensed, him coming, they got to their knees, and remained staring at the floor.

"I had to bring you in like this, unannounced," he said with a soft smile. Then he waved a hand, as though he just realized they were still kneeling. "Rise."

He sat down in the corner of the room, and looked through the window. For a moment there was a look of melancholy on his youthful face, a shadow of memories hovering over his noble features; but then he looked back at his students, who were now sitting and watching him without a word.

"As I said, this had to be done. Have I told you what to expect, you would have given your best to present yourselves in the best possible light. I wanted my Master to see you as you are. Pretence brings nothing and though you know that, I am certain that there would have been unconscious 'corrections'. He had to know everything."

"And now that he does," he continued, sighing and interlacing his fingers in his lap, "he let me know that he is very pleased with my choice. Now, I shall let you know that we shall be staying here for a while, for we arrived here both because of me, as because of you. While I am going about my work, you shall do something that is very important in the life of a Sith. Something you had to do years ago, but as the tomb was so far away and coming here was not an option, I have postponed it. But now it is time for you to do it."

"I want each of you to meditate for three successive days, to think, to ponder, how to make a tombstone that would represent you. You shall go out and pick a rock and then use any means available within the tomb – I shall show you some techniques of working with lava rock – to craft your own tombstone. Your name shall be inscribed upon it, along with your name in the Dark side; and you may add whatever you desire. Sketches, drawings, text – anything. But it has to represent you perfectly. Upon the evening of the third day, I shall come for your tombstones and consider your task done. Do you have any questions?"

"Yes, my Master," said Tarralyanna, her voice trembling. "Why do you want us to make them?"

"Is there a tremble of fear that I hear in your voice, my apprentice?" asked the Dark Lord coldly, staring at her pointedly. "Are you afraid to die?"

"No, my Master," she answered promptly.

"Then that is settled," said the Dark Lord sternly, getting to his feet. "You will have dinner with me in half an hour – by that time I shall manage to catch a serpent for Tammutyen and prepare it. And for Tarralyanna, I know just what I am going to fish out for her. Jan'Saa, the seaweed balls."

He left them and the two Sith exchanged glances.

"I shall carry my things into the next room," said Tammutyen, voicing her thoughts. "Pity I do not have anything to sketch with."

Tarralyanna withdrew something from her robe, handing it to him with a trembling hand. It was a piece of black chalk. He smiled at her, took it and embraced her, kissing her on the cheek. The coldness of his skin told her that he was very, very hungry indeed. They spent over three hours in meditation and last ate the day before. For a moment she considered offering him her blood, but she remembered that he had quite enough left and besides she did not know what her Master might do to her if she did that. He might be very angry indeed.

Their dinner was quiet and very solemn. Tammutyen was devouring the sea serpent as though he had not eaten for weeks and Tarralyanna found the strange, fluffy white balls oddly tasty. They were hard to chew and their colour and texture was upon the first glance disgusting, but when she began to eat, she better already. Tarralyanna's constitution was such that she had a very small stomach, so even if she wanted to, she could not eat much. Three such balls and she was feeling full and very drowsy, thinking with longing about lying down on the warm stone and closing her eyes. Tammutyen was spitting the serpent's big bones into a bowl beside him, and the Dark Lord was gazing into empty space, slowly eating small transparent fish, together with the spine and all, what Tarralyanna simply could not watch and resorted to staring at the floor after she was done with her meal.

When the three-foot long sea serpent disappeared in Tammutyen's mouth, he leaned aback and gave a deep sigh. The Dark Lord put away the strange bait he used to catch their dinner and took the knife from the fireplace. The following hour he was explaining to them how to heat the stone, how to take it out of the fire, how to engrave glyphs in the stone and how to paint them. They listened very carefully and did not ask anything. After Tarralyanna failed to obtain an answer, they decided that it was for the best to remain silent, despite of the fact he could hear their confused thoughts.

They departed to sleep feeling exhausted but a lot better after a decent meal. Tarralyanna had to confess, as strange as they looked, those balls were highly nutritious, and she felt her body already begin to recover from her journey. They lay one beside the other, her head resting on his chest, with him ruffling her hair. The two Sith were not afraid of death – it was one thing they were always ready for. But making their own tombstones somehow made it more real.


	19. Chapter 18 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

In this chapter we get to see bits and pieces of Sith customs – again, as I see them – and the beginning of the confrontation between the three Jedi and three Sith.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XVIII – A Place Called Home

The following morning, the Dark Lord watched through the Force his two apprentices as they quietly walked around the tomb, daggers tucked into their belts, searching for suitable rocks for their tombstones. He watched them zigzag through the wasteland, hoods over their faces, touching rocks and esteeming them, only to walk away from them, not finding them suitable for their purpose. Tammutyen came back to the tomb first, levitating a great piece of lava that fell off the side of a volcano, which more resembled a boulder than a piece of rock which was to be used for crafting a tombstone. The perfectionist Tarralyanna remained prowling around and returned some time before the rise of Luth, wearily holding an already beautifully shaped piece of cold lava, with graceful lines along the sides, forming spirals that extended all over its surface. It was already flat on both sides. He smiled to himself, and then departed to his Master's tomb once again.

For the rest of that day, the two worked in silence, sitting on the floor of the kitchen, as they named it, where was that large fireplace and the source of water to cool off the stone and passing tools to one another. They heated lava in the fireplace, and then applied it to their tombstones with strange but effective pincers Tammutyen made out of bits of metal he found behind the tomb, among the rocks. They would work and then fall into meditation, with their hands upon the stone, asking the Dark side whether their work was going in the right direction. Then they would start working again, freshly inspired and zealously chiselling Sith glyphs on the red surface of the stone.

Tarralyanna found that the tomb attracted the power of the Dark side in such a way that it took less effort than ever to summon it. It was virtually under their fingertips, swirling and raging, awaiting their call. Tammutyen was exhausting his store of anger by chiselling very loudly, his brow furrowed, bathing in sweat, but still wearing his sad'khai. His glyphs were large and precise, the lines thick and deep; and by the end of the second day, he was filling them with black liquid he got out of a sea creature that resembled a squid, which his Master left for them to use. Tarralyanna's glyphs were graceful and thin, with curls at the end of the lines, giving them an artistic touch. She measured the stone using her medallion and calculated the width of one glyph in her mind – thus all of her glyphs were of the same size, and equally distanced from the curly rims. When lacking space, Tammutyen would simply continue in the following row, not even considering the possibility that he might measure the stone. He added things here and there, and was not much bothered when two things began to overlap – he simply believed this was the way it was meant to be.

Lying down to sleep after her meditation, which ascertained her that she was going in the right direction, although the solution she came up with was highly unorthodox and very hard to pull off, she found (and her lacerated palms and fingers were a proof), she looked out of the window. She could smell Tammutyen's pipe from the room next to her, as he, too, was done with his meditation and was smoking, thinking about his tombstone. An image of her as a skeleton suddenly appeared in her mind, with Tammutyen's skeleton reaching out for her hand. They were lying in the earth, with their tombstones over their heads, the very ones they were making now, but they were grinning. She laughed softly, and heard him laugh, too.

Tarralyanna's dreams were full of strange courts, judges and questions; she was walking around wearing her black cloak and sad'khai, being asked what she wanted from the Dark side, what were her true intentions, and what she was ready to give for it. Her answer had always been the same – everything. Because without it, she was nothing and no one, and death would pass quite unnoticed. Only possessing a name in the Dark side and serving it, having her Master by her side, she had a purpose, and she had something to live for, a very valuable goal, and she sincerely hoped she would remain in her body long enough to fulfil her destiny. Dying would be easy, she felt; leaving and abandoning all would be easy. But to fight, to defy, to live, in other words – that was hell on Horukaan, if there ever was one.

Weary but content that she was going to finish her work today, she got up on the morning of the third day and ran down the stairs to the kitchen, carrying her tombstone in her arms, having slept beside it. It was almost done; but the thought of not managing to complete it on time – for her inspiration always had something to add and there was always the possibility that something was left undone – made her work without respite until the rise of Luth. Tammutyen was not pleased with his tombstone, but she knew she could not help him. In the middle of his work he got up with an awful curse in Sith and departed to his chamber, levitating the stone along with him, to meditate on it. When he returned, it almost seemed as though he was in a trance. He began chiselling madly, bits and pieces of rock flying everywhere.

Tarralyanna watched him with the corner of the eye, but kept herself focused on her own work. When she was done, she wrapped it up and quietly left the kitchen, not wishing to disturb Tammutyen. She heard him furiously scraping the rock with a dagger all the way up to her room. There she dropped down on the floor and fell asleep at once, exhausted, her hands resting on the, now cold, surface of her tombstone. She woke up to see her Master standing over her, regarding her seriously.

"Up," he said curtly, turning away from her. She quickly scrambled to her feet. There was a note of coldness and anger in his voice she did not like the least. "You are done with your task?"

"Yes, Master," she replied quietly, feeling his glance on her.

"You go and practise in the large hall," he said after a pause. "I shall come shortly."

"But, Master…" she started, not believing her ears. She could not stand upright, let along practide her b'daars!

"What, apprentice?" he barked out at her, in a tone that made her flinch. "Little Sith is too tired? Do you think that your opponents will listen to your whining and wait for you to have an afternoon nap? A true Sith is always ready for three things – to fight, to serve the Dark side and to die."

She reached aside for her Saragon, not looking at him. There was a sudden movement on his side that made her believe he had his whip under his robes – and she darted out of the room with the Saragon in her hand, not looking back. This was something she learned in her childhood, to just obey and run – and the lesson got seared into her memory.

When she entered the hall, breathless, Tammutyen was already there. Shirtless and obviously in a foul mood, he was spinning his Ptah in his one hand, his eyes closed, the weapon a circling blur around him, the silence of tomb broken with the fizzing of the Ptah's blades. Tarralyanna took her Saragon and began spinning it around her head as well, trying to focus, trying to command her weary body to work. The Dark Lord made an appearance in the hall when they were about to start with the second b'daar. When it was time for a swap, Tammutyen whispered into her ear as he passed by her:

"Try lifting your elbow a little; it hangs down too close to your knee at the second turn."

"Thank you, Lord Tammutyen," said the Dark Lord loudly, in a voice that made them both jump in alarm. "I am sure Lady Tarralyanna knows that."

Tammutyen said nothing, believing that it was for the best to remain silent and not meddle in. The Dark Lord stood with his hands crossed, watching Tarralyanna, who was spinning in the middle of the room.

"Repeat the last three beats," he said when she was done with the b'daar in a quiet, dangerous voice. Tarralyanna did not even consider disobedience. After she did so and stood panting, her Saragon on the floor, he regarded her coldly for a moment, and then said:

"You could have done that the first time. Get a grip on yourself, or else you will be repeating all of the b'daars until I see them performed flawlessly."

On Tammutyen's work, however, he had nothing to say, and there was nothing to criticise – for Tammutyen was a burning Rage, a spinning madness, pulling out energy from his drained body as though on a straw. Tarralyanna had always been amazed at his ability to overcome his weariness with the application of Rage.

"Bear in mind," said the Dark Lord, after his last b'daar, "that in Gotan, you will have no power of Gnath to help you with your concentration and summoning of the Dark side."

"Yes, Master," he replied curtly, departing with his Ptah from the centre of the room. He had long learned that trying to argue with him and fire out impertinent retorts was something that was simply futile to do with his Master – he would always end up on the other side of the whip, and there was absolutely no helping it.

"Now go and wash yourselves the best that you can," said the Dark Lord after a pause, Tarralyanna's head on her knees, who was stretching on the floor and trying not to look at him. "After that, you shall come to hand in your tombstones in the third hall to the right. I shall be waiting for you there."

He departed and Tarralyanna dared to look at her brother, who was hissing curses under his breath. He slid down on the floor beside her in a split and caught his foot so aggressively that she could almost feel the pain herself.

"Something got him in an awful fix," she whispered, her sapphire eyes glassy due to exhaustion. "I wonder whether he has gotten some bad news?"

"Do we care?" growled Tammutyen moodily, pulling down his boots and wiggling his enormous toes. "I am barely alive, I do not feel my hands, and my fingers feel as though made out of wood after all that chiselling. I have existential issues on my mind, rather than thinking what got Master in a fix."

She laughed a little, but then considered it. Did the Lord Ka'Th'Spaa's spirit tell him something that got him angry? Was he not pleased with their work? He told him – he, the great Dark Lord of the Second Age, she kept reminding herself – that he was pleased with his choice of students. So why such a reaction? At first she thought that it might have been because he found her sleeping, but she did not plan on sleeping, it just happened. All right, she corrected herself, she thought that as she finished before the deadline, that she could rest for a while. But she was wrong.

They scrubbed themselves clean to the best of their abilities, standing naked side by side in the kitchen, pouring water they hauled up with the help of the bucket from the hole; he washed her back and she washed his. Their bodies never mattered less – now they were simply a nuisance, something that was holding them back, something weak and annoying. Wearing their sad'khai and their cloaks, which dried out in the meantime, they made an appearance in the aforementioned hall, carrying their tombstones in their arms. They looked around the room. It was a vast space, but so dark that Tarralyanna had to use her Force senses, for with her physical eyes she could see nothing. At the bottom of the room, someone was sitting in a tall chair resembling a throne, his face hidden under a hood. And she felt that this person, for whom she knew now he was her Master, was a source of such power, such terrible power, that she felt like choking. He was not holding back and he was showing them the whole of his power, she realised. They got to their knees.

"Who seeks admittance in this chamber?" he asked in a deep, dangerous voice. This brought back memories of the ceremony of Coming to Tarralyanna, the ceremony that lasted for two successive days. During the breaks she was ordered to meditate, and it had been a beautiful and terrible experience.

"Lady Tarralyanna of the Sith," she said in a clear, ringing voice.

"Lord Tammutyen of the Sith," echoed Tammutyen's deep voice to her right.

"And what do you bring?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Our tombstones, the tokens of our loyalty to the Order, to you, our Master, and to the mighty Dark side," said Tarralyanna. "Proof that we are dead to the world."

There was a pause during which Tammutyen was thinking how smart her answer was – and how close it was to what their Master wanted to hear.

"I am the Dark Lord of the Sith," said the Dark Lord, in a voice that resounded through the room, making their every hair stand on end – how was he doing it, Tarralyanna always asked herself? "I am the dweller in shadow, the secret tremble, the eyes of the Black Flame and the voice of Darkness on this world."

"Come forward if you dare, my servants, and show me your tombstones," he said after a pause. The both of them got slowly to their feet and approached him, placing the tombstones before him and backing away to stand with their hands crossed before them, their heads bowed under their hoods. The Dark Lord lifted a hand and first levitated Tammutyen's tombstone into his hands, examining it.

It was large and thick and upon the first glance it looked indestructible. The red stone was polished so hard it gleamed. Tammutyen was fascinated with the appearance of the Lord Ka'Th'Spaa's grave and resolved to make his tombstone as smooth and as beautiful as well – it had nothing to do with imitation, merely with equal preferences. He used hard red sand to do this. The Sith glyphs he inscribed spoke of his personality, that he was hiding nothing, and giving everything. Under '_Lord Tammutyen, devoted servant of the Dark side_' stood his name in the Dark side. Underneath that, Tammutyen engraved a sword and a lightning bolt over it, along with a short summary of the Oath he had given at his Coming: "_I am he who is born in the heat of battle, forged in pain and torment; I am he who rises from the ashes of weakness; Rage is my cloak and my weapon. I am the eyes of fire and the voice of thunder – and to Darkness I pledge my eternal allegiance_."

Tarralyanna's tombstone was tiny compared to Tammutyen's, with wavy, curly volcanic lines along the edges; she painted them silver, using her own blood. "_Lady Tarralyanna, loyal servant of the Great Dark side_," it read at the top. Underneath that, she chiselled out a marvellous black rose, the stems of which spread from upper left to lower right. Then came also a short summary of her Oath from the ceremony of Coming, inscribed under it in beautiful, curly Sith glyphs that were a wonder to look at.

"_I am the Dark, secret Fire that rises from the depths of the world_," it read. "_I am the silver tears of the stars, the breath of twilight, dweller in the shadows of the moons; I am she who dares to invoke the Night and command it. O Mighty Darkness, embrace me, walk with me. In terrible tempest my __voice shall be heard; in deep, cold lake my eyes shall be seen; and in the Great Dark side, I shall know no fear and no weakness_."

The Dark Lord looked up at them when he set her tombstone aside, and regarded them in silence.

"Are they finished?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," the both of them replied at the same time. Tammutyen completed his while Tarralyanna was sleeping. The Dark Lord found him trying to fish out something from the sea that had a bit of blood in it, as he had gotten seriously hungry and sent him off to the training hall.

"Very well," said the Dark Lord. "Your tombstones have been accepted. Now come with me and place them on your graves, in the presence of the great Dark Lord Ka'Th'Spaa."

He got up and passed by them, heading for the door. They picked up their tombstones and quickly followed him. This was some sort of ceremony, Tarralyanna realised; and death was meant figuratively.

"Here come my apprentices," announced the Dark Lord when they descended into the tomb, stepping aside and allowing them to come in. She looked around herself. Behind what she formerly believed was merely a pile of rock, was another tombstone bearing her Master's name. He made his own tombstone, years ago, she realised, her stomach giving an unpleasant flip. She would have been horribly curious to read what he wrote on it, if she was not in the position she was in now, and thus she quickly averted her glance from it.

"Servants of the Dark side," whispered the same voice they felt before, filling them with chill. "You have shown that you are willing to give your lives and souls for the Sith Order and for the Dark side. But I shall ask you now – are you ready to serve it, even in death, from the grave, rising from the Dark side to execute its will?"

The question took the two by surprise – they have never thought about their Oaths that way. Eternally serve the Dark side? But what else, thought Tarralyanna, staring down at her tombstone, thinking fast? If she was doing it now, she would do it as well when she would rest with the Dark side.

"I swear, my Lord," she said first, lifting up her glance to look at the grave of the Lord Ka'Th'Spaa. She thought there was a flicker of something dark there, a shadow moving around the golden glyphs.

"The Dark side is my home; in serving it, I have finally found my purpose," said Tammutyen in his deep voice, which was not trembling, to Tarralyanna's great surprise. Tammutyen never spoke more than it was necessary, but now he spoke back to the Dark Lord, who listened. "I shall serve it from my grave and thus honour its power."

Silence. Their Master stood unmovable, but Tarralyanna thought he turned his head slightly toward Tammutyen when he began to speak.

"So be it," whispered the voice, and Tarralyanna felt him nod. "Place your tombstones on your graves, servants of the Dark side."

The two stepped forward and found themselves facing two open graves, as their Master lifted up a large cover that had been placed over them. This is strange, thought Tarralyanna, lifting her tombstone. But this will merely be a resting place for my body, she thought. Would my apprentice bring my body here one day, to rest in this tomb and speak to my spirit, she wondered? There was a dull thunk as Tammutyen lowered his tombstone on his grave, and now pushed it aback, looking at it from all sides, and kept shifting it until he was pleased. They stepped aback.

"For a Sith, Life and Death are the same," echoed the voice as they stood unmovable once again, waiting for the ceremony to continue, "We fear nothing. We are neither joyous, nor sad. But beware – the mighty Dark side does not tolerate weakness, nor does it tolerate betrayal. There is no name for the fate of he or she who betrays the Dark side, and we do not speak of them. They are wretched, cursed for all eternity."

"As I have been with your Master, I shall henceforth be with you as well, Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen," said the voice. "You have made a dangerous and terrible Oath today; but to all those who dare and have the courage to place their own tombstones upon their awaiting graves in its name, the mighty Dark side shall protect and show them its other face. There is no more powerful force in the Universe, than the Dark side."

Their Master repeated the last words solemnly and the two followed his example, feeling that this was the right thing to do.

"What you have just experienced," spoke their Master as they came out of the tomb, "is the full Ceremony of the Coming, as it is traditionally done. I myself have done it that way; but it was not possible for me to simply drag you off to Gnath when it was time for the Ceremony. As you can remember, we had a pretty little game with Death and though I have scared the life out of you, you have not yielded. You let go of your fear. I did not mention what might have happened if you failed to do so."

He smiled crookedly, casting an aside glance at the two, who followed him.

"The purpose of fear is to warn human beings of danger," he continued, leading them into the hall where he awaited them. "But the Sith do not need it, for we have the Dark side. It is our guardian and our weapon, as my Master said. For us, fear is poison. We do not need to be cumbered by it and we do not need to carry this burden. We live to instil fear in others and use it as a weapon against them. This however can be done only if you feel no fear yourselves."

"What does it mean, to have the Lord Ka'Th'Spaa as a protector?" he asked softly, turning to them and sitting down after he ignited a fire next to his little throne. "More than you can imagine." He looked at them seriously. "He knew of you, as I have told him, and he felt your activity in the Force. But he absolutely refused to have anything to do with you until I actually brought you here. The fact that he approved of you and told you that you had his protection henceforth, means that he believes you are worthy of your titles, and of your position. And that, despite of your, perhaps, momentary inability to summon the Dark side, for any reason, he would reach out for you and help you. One day, when my body is dead, I will assist you from the Force as well. And one day, you will do the same for the future Sith. This is the Sith Order; and our training allows us to transcend flesh and blood and rise from the grave, so to speak, to honour the Dark side from our graves as well."

"I am very surprised with your answer, Tammutyen," he continued, looking at him. "You did not allow the fear before my Master's spirit to thwart you in your intention to say what you believed should be said and what he should hear. You have not identified him with the Dark side and even then you knew whom you truly serve. Well, well. Perhaps I shall not push you down into the water hole and close the lid after all."

He said this so seriously, that Tarralyanna and Tammutyen exchanged surprised glances. But then the Dark Lord laughed loud, looking from one to the other. His sense of humour sometimes resembled Tammutyen's, she thought.

"Dinner," he called over his shoulder, suddenly jumping to his feet and sweeping out of the room, taking them by surprise. "Now."

ooooooooooooooooooo

That evening was a magical one; they have been given some free time, after they cleaned the kitchen, and they went out to have a walk around the tomb, after what they sat together on the rocks behind it, embraced, watching the volcanoes erupt in the distance and enjoying the deep rumbling that shook the ground. The volcano hissed out one last cloud of smoke, and fell silent. Behind the tomb, Gnath stretched out as land dotted with numerous volcanoes, one atop of another, and they felt, stretching out their senses, that it was infinite. Perhaps there was no end to the volcanic land; but there was no way of knowing.

"You have never told me what Master discovered about your anatomy," whispered Tammutyen into her ear, kissing it gently. She relaxed in his embrace and smiled softly.

"Up there," she whispered, as though not hearing him, and pointing a finger at the stars in the sky which were there, only they could not see them. "There, somewhere, is the place where this body has come from." She glanced over her slender figure and laughed.

"But these are my roots," she pointed at the tomb. "This is where I have been born anew. This is where my body shall rest."

"I never found out who _my_ parents were," said Tammutyen a little sadly; though it did not matter to him, he was curious. Perhaps he was the son of a king? Perhaps the son of a great warrior? He would never know, as his Master absolutely forbade him to speak of it and never gave him a straight answer, despite of his pleas.

"I bet your father was an Albinian warrior, who was strong and wise," she said, laughing, and turning to look at him with her sapphire eyes twinkling in the scanty light of Luth. "And your mother a beautiful dame he rescued."

"Dream on," he said with a snort, but laughing along with her. "You have not answered my question."

She knew that, and she had done it because she was still thinking about the little bit of information she got out of her Master.

"He said that my body has the ability to reject every toxin that is ingested," she said quietly. "This accounts for my excellent digestion and the way I look."

"Master also said that meat is absolutely forbidden to me," she went on. "My body simply could not digest it. It would get stuck somewhere." She tapped herself on her flat stomach, sighing.

"You have never liked the look of it, let along showed a desire to eat it. What about your blood?" he asked, sniffing gently, as though the mention of it had made him hungry. However, his Master delivered him a jar a few hours ago, filled to top with blood that smelled very odd, but was quite tasty. Thus the Tammutyen she was leaning against right now was quite warm and well fed. "Why is it silver?"

"He did not say anything about it," she whispered, bowing her head. "But he showed me through his eyes what he had seen when he found me. I was buried under a pile of silver dust. I reckon that means something, do you not?"

"Silver stardust," he said thoughtfully, turning to her. "Yes, I remember you telling me about it. Is that why your blood is silver?"

"Who knows?" she answered quietly. "I am beginning to think I did not have any parents, not in a conventional sense anyway. Because I do not have a navel and every human being does, even the Caelians."

"But I suppose I will never find out, will I?" she sighed, looking up. "All that matters is that I have a family here – a Sith family – and that is all that should matter."

Tammutyen placed a finger under her chin, leaning forward to kiss her. There was no wind, no movement around them at all, to signify that the time and place really existed there, if there was not for the occasional rumbles of the volcanoes, and the deep, booming explosions of lava. Her arms entwined around his wide shoulders, Tarralyanna allowed him to lower her on a rock, lying atop of her and kissing her, her long hair stretching down to the red ground. The Dark Lord was watching them from a window, an odd look on his face, a cross between melancholy and pride. They have passed every test and justified his trust in them. Now they were ready for the world and he knew that he could give them assignments and that they would never fail him.

oooooooooooooooooooo

The following day had been spent in work once again, but Tarralyanna felt that her body fully recovered from their long journey to the tomb. She slept well, ate another couple of seaweed balls, had a good training and was now feeling strong and agile once again. She wondered when they would be departing for Gotan – but neither of them asked. They began to like this place, despite of the fact that they slept on the floor and that their skin was sticky and due to dried sweat mixed with the red dust of Gnath. Now that they have given their Oaths before the great Dark Lord of the Second Age, they felt accepted and welcome here.

In the evening of the second day, as Tarralyanna and Tammutyen were sitting in her chamber on the floor and playing a game, their Master rushed in, his cloak whirling behind him. His long hair was loose, but he was braiding it as he burst in. He had clearly been interrupted in his meditation.

"Up!" he roared. They threw away the black chalk which they used to write on a scrap of parchment, heads close together, and jumped to their feet. "Put your clothes on. The Jedi are on their way here."

He disappeared again. During the general confusion which followed this proclamation, as Tarralyanna and Tammutyen were trying to find their clothes and weapons, their Master reappeared wearing his sad'khai and was buckling his belt, holding his Mer'Tah, which was now dangerously flashing, in his hand. It was a broad-bladed, short sword, or looked like one; but it more resembled a strange elongated club. It had four blades, placed so that each was perpendicular to another, and deeply serrated; the tip was as sharp as a pin, whereas the handle had a chain attached to it, which could be twined around one's wrist so that one might spin it around without risking losing the weapon, as its weight was considerable. Neither Tarralyanna nor Tammutyen had ever seen him with it in his hand. They knew of it, they knew it was his weapon of choice, but they have never seen it in his hands, nor seen him use it. They stared at him, holding their own weapons in their hands and tucking daggers into their belts.

"They are coming toward the tomb," he said, his voice slightly trembling, as this was most certainly not the most pleasurable of ways how to end a meditation session. "But they have parted ways with the third – I believe this is the master. He is coming round the eastern side, whereas they are coming from the southern. I…" He swung hard with his Mer'Tah, at what the two winced, staring at the formidable weapon flashing in his hand. "shall wait for him. You two go and intercept the other two Jedi. Find them – and kill them."

Tammutyen let out an excited yelp that made it sound as though he was having trouble swallowing something that was too big for him. His eyes were ablaze with fanatical excitement and Tarralyanna nodded at her Master, her throat going dry.

"We understand, Master," she said, as it was obvious that Tammutyen could not say a word.

"Master," he suddenly squealed, in a high-pitched voice that did not sound quite like his usual deep growl. "Can I—eat?"

"Once they are dead, you can eat all you like, my apprentice," said the Dark Lord, waving them off impatiently, "Go! Now!"

They ran out of the room, Tarralyanna trying out her grip on the Saragon, passing with her fingers over the smooth surface of the serpent's fang as she ran alongside of Tammutyen, the Saragon's chain gathered up in her fist. Tammutyen was bursting with the desire to meet these Jedi and his eyes were flashing, his nostrils were flaring and his hands were trembling – was the situation different, Tarralyanna would have laughed.

"Try not to pass out of excitement," she scolded him as they rushed down the stairs, two dots of swirling black robes, running across the red soil. He growled as an answer, his chest heaving up and down as he ran, in an attempt to breathe, following Tarralyanna who was ploughing onward with ease, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

They were cloaked in the Dark side, by mutual consent, for which no words were needed. If one of the Jedi was attracting the Dark side, they felt it was for the best not to forewarn them that they were coming.

"They must be somewhere behind the obelisk," Tarralyanna said as she ran, her voice quite even, as though she was not running at all, whereas Tammutyen was already out of breath. "You really should cut down that smoking of yours."

They paused, skimming the land before them, their weapons in their hands, their eyes glinting with the lust for battle.

"I shall switch to pipe only," he panted, looking around himself wildly. "Mighty Darkness! Jeeediii," he sang under his breath. "Come out, come out, Tammutyen is waiting for you!"

He spun his Ptah in his enormous fist and Tarralyanna snorted with nervous laughter. She pointed silently toward the hills behind the obelisk and the two headed there, keeping to the shrouding of the cold volcano, as they had no Dark side to assist them now and tell them where the Jedi were. Peeking behind the dusty rocks which had been spat out by a volcano ages ago, they finally spotted two brown dots in the distance, walking beside one another. The two Sith looked at each other and nodded.


	20. Chapter 19 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

This chapter describes the confrontation between the two Sith and the two Jedi. Please ignore the mistakes, as I have no one to reread what I've written.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XIX – Heart of Rage

All that kept Larynthe going was the thought that perhaps at this great gulf they sensed was the end of her troubles and of their journey. Waak had been silent for the last few miles they covered, staggering slightly. They stopped only when it was unavoidable, but other than that, they walked pretty much since that scanty lunch they shared after the rise of Luth. They had very little left of all of their rations and they knew that they were about to either leave their bones in the shadow of some cold volcano, or discover something great, and then leave their bones there. It did not matter, she thought. She could not live with the calls of the Dark side to her any more and she sometimes felt as though she could just burst out of her own skin. Torn between the desire to listen and the fear before it, the urge to run away as far as she could and get back to her own life, to the life she led before this, Larynthe's every day was a nightmare. Even something as simple as walking was a nightmare. The Dark side fluttered around her like a cloud, teasing her, calling to her, and her initial desire to explore it, her initial bravery, vanished with the threat of death hanging over her head. She was ready for it – there was nothing she wanted more at this point, but to die. It would be a relief, she believed, to be finally accepted by the Force she loved and served; but a part of her was wondering – which side of it would it be? Had she not betrayed her side of the Force by listening to the Dark side, even a little? Guilt roiled through her like poison and she felt as though she had lost her soul. She hated Waak for not understanding the hell she was going through and for not even looking at her, let along offering her his help.

Waak did not remark on what he was sometimes feeling around her, for he was sure it was the Dark side, and he kept his distance from her, treating her like a hero, someone whom he did not know very well, but at least he treated her with respect. However, she did not care about it for once. It mattered very little what he thought of it, since it was her who was suffering. In the light of this, it sometimes seemed like she did not notice him walking beside her at all. She was immersed in her thoughts, asking too many questions and getting no answers. She felt that the Force had abandoned her since they entered Gnath, and yet, she knew, that when the time comes to die, she would be more than open to it, and that her call upon the Force would be nothing but sincere. The one question that remained hanging in the air was – which side of the Force would answer her?

They were approaching the hills, behind which they have sensed this great gulf in the Force and it almost seemed as though nothing existed beyond it. Would they find something that swallows the Force? Was this possible at all? It is unheard of, Waak kept telling to himself as he staggered onward. And yet this is our duty, this is what we were supposed to do, and we shall die trying to discover the Sith.

Climbing the hill by zigzagging, they felt something stir behind it; and Waak placed a hand on Larynthe's shoulders, holding her back. The both of them stared, horrified. Two figures in black were standing there, at the top of the hill, holding weapons in their hands and looking down calmly at them. Larynthe and Waak had their swords out in a blink of an eye, not believing their eyes. They had not felt them coming; but as the two figures exchanged glances, Larynthe felt chill rushing to them and enveloping them. They could not see their faces, but they were certain their faces were something horrible. Larynthe had felt the Dark side around her more than just once – but to feel it being actually summoned by someone, was overwhelming. It was chill and rage of the worst kind; hatred, rage, gloating and destructiveness spilled over her and she felt they could not breathe, momentarily puzzled with the feeling and trying to fathom out what it really was, until it dawned on her. For a moment they stared at each other in silence, but then one of the Sith – they were quite sure they were Sith – spoke.

"Welcome to the land of the Dark side," it spoke in perfect Albinian.

The person laughed, and Waak's heart missed a beat. So... this was it... She was a Sith and he could see her with his own eyes, standing before him. The female Sith pulled down her hood, smirking, and glanced from one to the other. She is simply disgusting, thought Lady Tarralyanna, glancing over the female Jedi. Her brown hair was so distastefully cut short to fit into a silly ponytail, her robes were frayed and filthy and her sword was dirty and uncared for. But what made Tarralyanna laugh were the looks of surprise on their faces. She heard the male think whether this was all a dream, a vision of some sort. The female was a little braver and the Dark side Tarralyanna surrounded herself with stretched easily toward her. 'I am ready for battle and I have nothing to live for,' Lady Tarralyanna heard her think. 'Well, that makes two,' thought Tarralyanna with amusement, for the first time sincerely having no fear before battle and dying in it. Before commencing any type of battle, her Master told her when she was nine, you must be ready to die in it and never allow fear to cloud your vision. Are all Albinian women so large, Tarralyanna wondered?

"Who are you?" asked Larynthe in a trembling voice.

"Your executioners," said Tammutyen in his deep, roaring voice. With the prospect of battle right under his nose, he had gone into a battle trance, Tarralyanna noted. He was fanatical about Jedi killing, that she knew, and now he had the chance to do it, plus he was starving again. It was a nasty combination. Tarralyanna shot something at him in a hissing language the two could not understand.

"What is that thing behind the hill?" asked Waak, blinking up at Tammutyen. "Where have you come from?"

"That, Jedi, is the home of the Dark side," said Tarralyanna vaguely, smiling at him.

He was stunned; he did not believe something as beautiful could ever be a Sith, for now there was no doubt about who they were. The female had a strange appearance, though she was beautiful; lithe like a willow branch, she did not look very strong, and this was not how he would have imagined a Sith looked like. There were hints of violet running through her firmly bound black hair and her eyes – he shuddered. They were inhuman, and yet so beautiful.

"Which you have invaded," she added coldly.

The alien looking Sith untied her cloak with her one hand and threw it aside, with the male doing the same, almost at the same moment, as though they agreed on it. Larynthe blinked. There was scarcely a spot of white, fragile skin left on her lithe body to be seen, so covered in symbols and drawings her body was, done in various colours. Her thin and yet muscular arms were now flexed as she gave her strange weapon a wave so that the two bladed spheres dropped to the floor, with her holding the chain by the middle. Larynthe could see her ribs, right under the black rag with which she had covered her breasts, thus confirming that she was female, despite of all of the strange things about her. Her flat stomach was adorned with a large tattoo of a snake, her skin gleaming with whatever she covered her body. As a matter of fact, it was sweat. Tarralyanna was notorious for sweating, but she guessed this was because of her anatomy – her body was casting out toxins that way.

The male Sith was formidable, Waak thought as he glanced over him, thinking fast and swallowing, measuring him up as an opponent – he looked just as the books described the Sith. Large and muscular, without an ounce of a flesh that was not taut and hard, he thrust his long sword in the red ground beside him, grinning so evilly at Waak that he thought he could not look at him anymore, let along fight him. But it was clear that battle was inevitable. They would not let them pass; and they were about to die anyway. He and Larynthe looked at each other and reached for each other, as though upon mutual unspoken consent; they squeezed each other's hand, and then nodded. Everything has already been said and there was nothing more left to discuss. With this gesture, they said goodbye to each other, whatever the outcome of this battle might be and told each other that each was sorry for what happened. Larynthe was sorry for yelling at him and treating him horribly as she did; and he was sorry for patronising her and for ignoring her attempts to tell him what was going on within her, for his weakness to reach out to her and help her. Truth was, he was afraid of the Dark side and he still was, he admitted that to himself as he was now facing the two Sith. His fear came alive once again, in its full size and horror, as he looked at the male Sith, who was staring at him intently, as though he was thinking about tearing him apart with his bare teeth. And he was quite close to the truth, of course. They pulled off their cloaks, too, to the joy of the two Sith and brandished their Jalá swords.

"Would it not be fair if you told us your names first?" asked Larynthe suddenly. "It is a duelling custom."

"Larynthe, they do not know anything about fairness or honour," hissed Waak at her. "They are Sith, Holy Force!"

"I am ready to tell you my name, Jedi, if you give me yours," said Lady Tarralyanna with a smile directed at her, which, despite of her intention turned out to be intimidating rather than encouraging.

"Apprentice Larynthe, from the Kriss County in Farrondale," said Larynthe readily. Waak gave a snort, but she silenced him with an angry smack on the shoulder. Their squabbling seemed to amuse to the two Sith.

"A Jedi of her word," said Tarralyanna, laughing. "Well, well, Jedi. I am Lady Tarralyanna of the Sith."

"Do you live here?" asked Larynthe. "Where have you been born?"

"I have been born a Sith, I am of the Sith, and I am going to die as a Sith," said Tarralyanna, now with a hint of anger in her voice. "You dare to come here and you shall pay. State your name, my brother."

"What?" asked the other Sith, now tearing his hungry glance away from the male Jedi. "Oh, all right. Lord Tammutyen of the Sith."

"I am Master Waak-Lin, I have been born in Holth, the third County of Mandana," said Waak coldly, glancing over the Sith's wide chest covered in symbols done in various colours. The one on his chest was a two-headed serpent, each head stretching to his other muscle, its body disappearing in the Sith's black trousers.

"Good, now that I know your name, I can kill you," said Tammutyen happily, turning his Ptah slowly in his hand after he plucked it out of the red soil and making a few determined paces forward, passing hungrily with his tongue over his lips.

Tarralyanna rolled her eyes and fixed her glance upon the young Jedi before her. She nodded at her, and Larynthe could not help herself not to be surprised with this gesture. The Sith do not know honour, do they? And yet this young woman, this creature, she corrected herself, knew exactly how the Jedi fought, for these were their rules – to state their names and to bow to each other before engaging in a duel. Larynthe found strange comfort in the knowledge that she would at least die in battle and now decided to stick to the Jedi rules and customs right down to the bitter end, perhaps unconsciously hoping that this might redeem her in the eyes of the Force. In a way, the two were representing the Sith, and Larynthe and Waak, as strange as it was, now represented the whole of the Jedi Order. Where was Bakku, they did not know, and believed him to be dead, for they could not sense him.

The Sith had stated her name, contrary to what Larynthe thought. But she realised – with a pang – that this was what the Dark side suggested to her, that she should ask her for it, and she obeyed, thinking that it was the light side that was whispering to her. Did she allow the Dark side to come so close to her and to take control over her mind, so that the only thing she could hear was the Dark side? The thought frightened her.

"You know," said Tarralyanna, sliding down the hill and gripping her strange weapon by the middle, eyeing Larynthe, "you attract the Dark side. I wonder why?"

"I have been wondering the same thing," said Larynthe, getting into combat position and eyeing the Sith, trying to locate her weak point, if there was one. But Tarralyanna stood unmovable, watching her for a few more moments, glancing over her – compared to Tarralyanna's – bulky figure, after what she, still not tearing her glance off her, her beautiful sapphire eyes glinting, rose the formidable weapon, and gave it a turn in the air. And so, thought Larynthe, with coldness creeping into her heart, which had nothing to do with the Dark side, it begins. The epic battle of the Jedi and the Sith.

She let it revolve around her head for a few times, slowly, with Larynthe watching it and wondering what she should do to avoid the blades, after what the Sith leapt over her head and landed behind her. Larynthe turned and raised her sword and the clash of metal echoed through the barren land of Gnath. From such closeness, Tarralyanna lifted her leg easily over her head, and gave Larynthe a hard hit on the back of her head. Then she turned, using her momentary incapacity, and whirled around with her Saragon, keeping it at the waist level, sinking the blades deep into Larynthe's flesh. She turned around, brandishing her sword, and stared at her, bleeding.

"Come on," said Lady Tarralyanna, beckoning. "You are making it so easy for me. You are not a challenge at all!"

She looked quite disappointed. Larynthe darted forward, using the Force and swung with her sword aiming for the Sith's head, or where it had been a moment ago. The Sith ducked and pulled Larynthe's foot with her own. Larynthe almost lost her balance, staggering, but she leapt up, swinging hard with her sword to again clash against the Saragon, trying to ward off the Sith's attack. 'I shall never understand how they do it,' thought Tarralyanna, remembering the third b'daar and letting the Saragon turn around her head, thus warding off every attack of the Jedi, because the Saragon turned much faster than she could strike again. 'How can one fight without Rage? How can one not get angry in battle, the more with the fact that they have not been trained in it, that they have not trained their anger and turned it into Rage, something they can control?' She almost wished she could ask her; but Master's orders were Master's orders. She had to die.

Summoning up her Rage, Tarralyanna found herself in a tight lock with the Jedi, who was panting, sweat pouring down her forehead, the Saragon's chain wrapped tightly around Tarralyanna's arm so that she could use it in a blink of an eye. For a moment, the two women stared at each other. The pale-faced, as though she had never seen the sunlight, otherworldly face of the Sith, her flat chest heaving up and down rhythmically, as there were years and years of practising b'daars behind her; and the sun-tanned, round-faced, good-hearted Jedi Larynthe, who nevertheless had great determination in her eyes, biting her lips while trying to stay on foot in the steely embrace of the slender Sith, who, she found, despite of her appearance possessed surprising strength. The following moment, the two women thrust their hands forward and summoned the Force. The Dark side exploded from the hands of the slender Sith and collided with an almighty boom with the light side, coming from Larynthe's sweaty palms. Their hands shook and trembled, their faces contorted in concentration and effort, as the two sides of the Force swirled around each other, fighting a battle of their own.

Lady Tarralyanna suddenly gave a wild cackle, swerving aside, and turned to Larynthe with her left hand outstretched before her. She seemed quite mad to Larynthe, grinning so broadly at her, her weapon hanging by her side. Larynthe raised her sword, not caring any more, but the Dark side exploded in the Sith's hand; one with the Dark side, she felt as though the time had stopped, and it rushed into her, roiling through her as though through a pipe, to come out on her fingers. Streaks of silver lightning thrashed down upon Larynthe, who got hit squarely in the chest and rolled aside, yelping.

Tarralyanna straightened up, Rage pulsating in her every vein, her eyes flashing. She had now completely unleashed it; she was not holding anything back and she allowed every resentful thought, every bit of latent fear that she might have felt in her childhood, all of it, to burst out of her. She watched the Jedi scramble to her feet and immediately get back into combat position, staring at her, startled, asking herself what the hell just happened. Tarralyanna grinned, giving the Saragon a wide wave, and then launching herself at her. But Larynthe felt anger, at last. It roiled through her like poison and she attacked the Sith with all the skill she had, with all she learned at the Jedi Temple. Tarralyanna had been on alert since the beginning of the duel, but Larynthe's blade managed to find its way into her shoulder, and leave a deep sear in her flesh. Larynthe stared at the silvery liquid which began to flow freely from the gash.

"What… are you? Are you human at all?" Larynthe hissed out, her blade covered with silver droplets, staring at the Sith's shoulder. Lady Tarralyanna, despite of the pain, for she found that the Jalá ore inflicted her great pain, atop of the one she felt as the blade cut into her flesh, bit her lip and narrowed her eyes.

"Not really," she answered, her breath quite even, her sapphire eyes glinting maniacally.

Nothing else existed, but battle. Nothing and no one else existed, but here and now, this opponent and this duel. Her pain and her rage gave her focus and cleared her mind of all that was superfluous in this moment. The Dark side rushed to her as she threw herself backwards, leaping aback in a somersault, to land with certainty before Larynthe and spin the Saragon over her head, grazing Larynthe's cheek. She wished the Jedi would try to use the Dark side, so that they could be even, so that this would be even a greater challenge for her.

"Your use of the light side is weakening," she yelled at Larynthe, the Saragon steadily revolving around her head, and sneered. "Perhaps you should try to call up to the Dark side, Jedi. The most powerful Force in the universe."

This hit a nerve and Larynthe gave a snort, forced however to leap backwards as the Sith charged at her. The Sith let out a loud shriek of triumph and swung with her formidable weapon at Larynthe, meaning to cut her in half. Larynthe jumped aback, but she was not quick enough. The razor-sharp blades dug deep into her flesh and tore through it. She fell to the ground, blood pouring all over the red soil and moistening it. Even as she lay there, her vision getting blurred, she decided this was a temptation she was going to resist. She had lived as a Jedi and she would die as a Jedi. This was a time to amend for her mistakes.

The Sith lauched herself on her like a wolf and stepped onto her hand, which was still holding the Jala sword and kicked it aside. Larynthe gave a loud shriek of pain as she felt bones crushing under the Sith's foot. She lifted her glance to stare at the mad face of the Sith, sprayed with Larynthe's blood, the silver liquid still trickling down her shoulder. She looked up to the tattoed snake on the Sith's belly and blinked wearily, feeling life oozing from her. 'She has no navel,' she thought wearily. 'So she is not human,' she thought, her vision blurred, 'or I am not seeing right.' Her fists relaxed and she breathed in deeply.

"Kill me," she whispered, not averting her glance from the Sith, who was staring down upon her with her lips pursed, her every feature contorted with rage.

"That would be too easy," said the Sith, shaking her head. "Do you not want to fight me any more?"

The question took Larynthe by surprise and she looked down on her bleeding stomach, trying to get up.

"Come on," said the Sith, stepping aback and giving her room to get to her feet, dragging her weapon along with her.

Larynthe raised herself to her feet and looked toward the waiting Sith before her, who simply stood there and waited for her to get up. She cast an aside glance, trying to see where Waak was.

"Never mind them," said the Sith softly, as though she could hear her thoughts – she probably can, Larynthe thought. "They have their own battle. We have ours."

Larynthe's glance fell upon her Jalá sword. The blade was covered with the silvery substance that came out of the Sith's shoulder and the hilt was covered in her own blood. She leaned aside and picked it up, balancing it in her left hand, as the Sith broke the fingers on her right hand. The Sith smiled broadly and then took combat position again, nodding at her.

Larynthe let out a maddening screech that froze even her own blood – it seemed as though it was not coming out of her mouth at all, but from someone else's. The Sith's eyes gleamed as she backed away under her attack, ducking and jumping up quickly and hitting Larynthe in the chest. She turned quickly on the spot, her Saragon pressed against her chest so that it would not bother her, lifting her leg and hitting Larynthe in the belly, what caused her great pain due to her open wound. She cannot adapt, thought Tarralyanna, advancing upon her in a few swift paces, thanking Tammutyen inwardly for helping her to perfect this difficult movement. For when it was performed correctly, even without the use of the Dark side, it would give one's foot such strength and speed, that, if combined with precision, it could be deadly. 'She still has that gaping point in her defence and she lets me use it over and over again,' she thought.

"Are you not angry?" she hissed out at Larynthe, as they now grabbed each other's hands, wrestling, the Force vibrating between them. "Do you not want to kill me?"

Larynthe said nothing; she felt it; she knew it; and the Dark side rushed to her as hatred and anger filled her. She gave a loud screech and pushed the Sith away, who stumbled, but jumped up, lifting her left hand to cast a shower of silver lightning upon her again as soon as her feet were on the ground. But Larynthe was ready this time. She ducked, her face splattered with blood frozen in an expression of crazed determination. Every sane person has a point beyond which he or she snaps, the Dark Lord taught Tarralyanna – one only needs to find it. This was it for Larynthe. Desperation and anger filled her, and she felt the chill of the Dark side gloatingly spill over her. The Sith looked startled for a moment, but the following second she excitedly beckoned to her. So she finally gave in.

"Come on, defend the Jedi Order," teased the Sith. "The order of liars and old fools. Come on, fallen Jedi, kill me!"

Larynthe jumped forward, attacking the Sith with her Jala sword. She did not care about the side of the Force she was using now and indeed the Dark side seemed very eager to respond to her. She only wanted to kill the Sith and end this duel. She ducked as the Sith retaliated and swung at her with her sword, propelled by the Dark side. Noting that she was not in the best position, Tarralyanna did what she had been taught was best in such situations – she jumped over the head of her opponent. 'She wielded those horrible spheres as though they were a toy, feather-light,' Larynthe thought, wildly chasing after her. They were so caught up with their battle that they did not notice a figure standing over them, watching silently, his Ptah covered in blood, a look of pride on his face. But as Larynthe paused, she caught the sight of him through the Force and she knew at once what happened.

"No!" she screamed, her heart tearing into thousands of pieces, making a few paces toward the place he was standing. "Where is Waak? You have killed him!"

"So what?" asked Tarralyanna in sincere surprise, staring at her and awaiting her attack – in some way, Larynthe found, she was oddly gallant. "You cannot fight on your own? If he dies, you die as well?"

Anger exploded in Larynthe's chest as she charged at her, getting another kick in the belly, after what she got turned in the air, grabbed by the hands of the Sith who picked her up as though she was a doll and turned her over, throwing her mercilessly on the ground. The Jalá sword flew out of her hand, and, still feeling the hard grip of the Sith's hands, twining her wrists hard, Larynthe found herself wriggling on the ground once again. Tarralyanna raised her hand in front of her, summoning the Dark side, ready to crush her heart. It vibrated between her fingers, awaiting her command.

("STOP!") yelled a commanding voice at the sound of which she twitched and looked around herself. Larynthe took a shuddering breath, readying herself for the final blow, lying motionless under the Sith. She was ready for death. ("Do not kill her.")

As these words had been spoken in Sith, Larynthe did not understand a word. But there was someone coming, she noted, and it seemed as though this someone who was an authority to the Sith. She blinked and spotted a figure in black, walking down the slope, hood over its face, a weapon clanking rhythmically under its robes as it walked. She tried to raise herself to her elbows and remained that way, trembling with the whole of her wounded body, her vision blurred, trying to focus and see what was going on, blood trickling all over the russet soil.

"M'Nim'ya (Master)?" said the Sith, panting, her hand still extended in front of her, ready to kill.

("Knock her out,") said the Dark Lord in a harsh, commanding voice, looking down upon the wounded Jedi.

Tarralyanna hesitated only for one moment, after what she gave a horrible screech and hit Larynthe aggressively in the temple with her fist. After that, she looked down at her unconscious figure, breathing heavily. Suddenly she let out a loud yell, clenching her fists and looking up to the sky, venting all of the energy she still had stored up within her and which she was planning to release as she would kill the Jedi. Tammutyen replied in a deep animal roar of his own, brandishing his bloody Ptah. The Dark Lord stood quite serious, watching them and nodding. Then he pulled out his Mer'Tah, which was bloody from all sides and brandished it in the air. This gesture meant more than just celebrating victory to the two Sith, whose yells got ever louder as their Master joined in. It was his expression of acknowledgement, of approval and praise, but at the same time, an expression of companionship, as he obviously killed whoever tried to approach the tomb from the other side and in this way took part in this bloody duelling with the Jedi. Tarralyanna stepped away from the unconscious Jedi, and got to her one knee before her Master, trembling.

"You deserve your name fully, my apprentice," he said softly, putting away his weapon. "Now take her, and let us return to the tomb. Lord Tammutyen shall take his own prize as well. If something is left of it, that is."

He laughed softly as he climbed the slope and Tarralyanna picked up her Saragon with fondness. In her passing, she stumbled across the Jalá sword of the female Jedi and picked it up carefully by the hilt. The hilt was all right, she felt; but touching the blade, even with her finger, was horribly painful. She wrapped it in a piece of fabric she tore off the Jedi's robe, and then pushed it into her belt. She deserved this trophy for the duel she won. Bloody and trembling, she had never felt more alive and never more grateful to the Dark side and her Master for all of his teachings. However, as she carried the unconscious Jedi on her back, she wondered why her Master held her back.


	21. Chapter 20 - Part One

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

This chapter marks the end of part one, part two is following up. The story has four parts.

Now the three Sith have a living, breathing Jedi to amuse themselves with. What will they do with her? :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XX – Blood for Blood

Tammutyen walked ahead of Tarralyanna with a swagger, carrying a bundle over his enormous shoulder without the use of the Force. Tarralyanna did not need to ask what this was, nor did she want to see it. He had eaten a lot, judging by the little round blotches of colour on his usually deadly pale cheeks. And what was left of the Jedi's body was obviously not much, nor was it especially pleasant to the eye. The unconscious Jedi was becoming heavier and heavier and Lady Tarralyanna thought for a moment about asking Tammutyen to help her, but she decided against it. This was her prize, she won it, and she would carry it. And the prize was terribly heavy, she concluded with an inward laugh.

Their Master led them toward a hole dug out beside the tomb, and something was already lying beside the hole. This something – a body, beyond doubt – had been wrapped in a brown Jedi cloak, a handful of strange braids peeking under it. Tarralyanna laid down the unconscious Jedi on the ground before her, whereas Tammutyen simply threw his bundle on the ground unceremoniously and fixed his gaze upon the brown bundle which had already been there when they arrived.

"I am certain he was a master," said the Dark Lord, glancing over the bundle with a glint in his dark eyes. "But one that was rather old and weak. He was no match for me; he died very quickly."

He waved a careless hand and looked away from it, as though it did not deserve to be looked at. He fixed his glance upon Tammutyen's bundle, his cruel, thin lips stretching into a smile.

"Something left of him, my very hungry apprentice?" he asked softly. Tammutyen grinned, pleased that he was not being scolded, and bowed to his Master, nodding.

"I brought all of the remains I could find, my Master," he said.

"Very well," said the Dark Lord, pointing at the hole. "Toss them in."

Tarralyanna was looking down uncertainly at the unconscious Jedi. Why did her Master stop her when she was about to kill her? Was this not what he wanted?

"Yes, but I have changed my mind," he said, hearing her thoughts, not turning to her as he watched Tammutyen pick up the body of the Jedi master he killed and toss it into the hole as well, where it landed with a dull thump. "She can be useful to us. She will be considered as dead, along with her companions; but we shall take her with us. Have you felt that she attracts the Dark side?"

"Yes, Master," replied Tarralyanna, suddenly conscious how heavy her legs felt and that her wound, wrapped with a piece of her robe, was slowly healing – she could feel all of the energy in her body regrouping to help speed up the healing process. "But why?"

"That we shall research," said the Dark Lord with a soft smile directed at her. "You have become very powerful, my apprentice. And you have fought very well. I have watched your duel thorough the Force."

"Thank you, my Master," she whispered. "Your praise means a lot to me."

"Of course, the Jedi Tammutyen was fighting was so scared of him that he could barely do anything," the Dark Lord went on, laughing, with Tammutyen straightening up proudly and baring his sharp teeth, showing bits of blood on them – Tarralyanna looked away, puffing with annoyance. "The whole of your appearance and eagerness for murder scared the life out of him, my apprentice. But you, too, got your chance to fight a Jedi for the first time, although it was not as long and as challenging as you might have desired it to be."

"It was over before it started, my Master," said Tammutyen in a tone of regret.

"Nevertheless, it was good experience," said the Dark Lord, nodding. "Of course, I do not need to remark on your skill."

Tammutyen was glowing. He flexed his pectoral muscles to Tarralyanna when his Master turned away to cast a glance down the hole. Tarralyanna rolled her eyes, but smiled at him. She was certain that she was going to hear every move he made in his duel on their way home, because Tammutyen remembered all of it and battle tactics was his passion. He was obsessed with analysing all famous battles and duels, and he kept a record of them.

"Very well," said the Dark Lord, straightening up with an air of finality. "The two who paid with their lives for the invasion of the land of Gnath, the home of the Dark side, we shall bury here, as sacrifice unto my Master, for his first apprentice who got killed by the Jedi. May the souls of these two Jedi serve his soul in the Force forever. They have died by the hand of the Sith, and we shall make a tombstone to signify this. Blood for blood; life for life; and killing… because we have no problems with it."

Tammutyen happily chuckled to this joke. But Tarralyanna kept thinking back about this as she and Tammutyen were carrying a large stone their Master picked behind the tomb to be the tombstone they would place over the hole. There was another apprentice to the Dark Lord of the Second Age? Who was it? And where did he get killed?

"That is a very long story, Tarralyanna," said her Master, watching them as they scrubbed the surface of the stone in the kitchen, preparing it for the inscription of the glyphs. "But I shall let you work and retell it. My Master at first did not desire to take up an apprentice; this struck him as a dull and unnecessary task. But the Dark side wanted him to have an heir – and it told him so in a vision. And so he set off to find one, just like I have set off to find you. And he did, eventually. He was a young Caelian half-blood, escaped from a conservatory in Lateen, and he was roaming the world, searching for something that might amuse him. He was already a talented warrior and he was learning as he travelled. He was using his talents to fight for money and thus earn himself a bit of something that he would spend on drink and women."

Tammutyen snorted with revolt and continued scrubbing, whereas Tarralyanna was all ears.

"It took some persuasion on the Dark Lord's part, but he managed to persuade him to come away with him and to accept his teachings. The ceremony of the Birth was performed, and the young apprentice was learning very fast. He was hungry for knowledge, but he was also very wayward. The Dark Lord's greatest trouble with him was not to teach him this or that, for he found that he mastered everything he taught him. it was keeping him where he was and obeying him, keeping to the ways of the Sith. He punished him almost on a daily basis. One day, his apprentice escaped to the nearby town. The Dark Lord was having work of his own and came out of his meditation room only to find his apprentice was gone. Enraged, he set off to find him, keeping to the forests and travelling by night. His apprentice got drunk, and then challenged two people – who happened to be Jedi, unfortunately – for a game of darts. He used the Dark side to help him and the two got very suspicious about him. They questioned him, as they have felt something strange about him, something that would correspond to the Force, but not to the Force as they knew it. Naturally, all Jedi had orders to research any appearance of a Dark side user."

He paused, shaking his head and glancing around the room, as though he did not just duel a Jedi master and kill him. He did not appear to be weary at all, but was his usual serious, solemn self, his face devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

"Needless to say that the young apprentice got provoked, and the Dark side simply gushed out of him. Even for a boy of his age, he was very powerful, and the Dark side was strong with him. They killed him on the spot, as he was drunk and unable to fight. My Master searched for his body, but could not find it. Thus he died without an apprentice, in the Great War, but his will was to find one, and he lingered in Gnath until I came along. He was always harbouring great hopes in his first apprentice – but his weakness was his downfall."

"I hope you understand how important the relationship between a Sith master and an apprentice really is," he went on, with an air of a lecturer. "Hundreds of years after this happened, and as disappointed and angry my Master had always been with his apprentice, he honoured him for what he was, his student, and he still does. I hope you shall never forget that. Our bond runs deeper than flesh and blood. You have seen the power of my teaching in your duels. You have prevailed so easily over the Jedi, as though they were nothing more than toys."

He reached down for his pipe and ignited it thoughtfully, the two pondering this as he was dictated what they should inscribe upon the stone.

"_In the lasting memory of Ten'Muh'Raa, the first apprentice of the Great Dark Lord Kaa'Th'Spaa, we sacrifice the blood of the enemy to avenge his death_," it read.

The Jedi awoke some time after their dinner, or feast, rather, for their Master thought they should properly celebrate this victory. He fished out a number of things from the sea, and sat humming to himself and cooking in the kitchen for quite some time. A handful of assorted seaweed and a mountain of raw fish, sea serpents and eels later, they were listening to his stories, Tammutyen half-lying, pipe in his hand, looking well-fed and content. Tarralyanna was sitting cross-legged beside him, her hands in her lap, reaching out with the Dark side toward her shoulder every now and then to heal it. The story-telling got interrupted by movement in the corner, where Tarralyanna had left the Jedi.

As soon as she did, her Master had attended to her wounds and then left her there, to wake up on her own. He cast an amused glance at Lady Tarralyanna after he was done with the preliminary healing of the wound on her belly, as though praising her for her good work with the Saragon. Now she stirred and opened her eyes. The Dark Lord stopped talking and the three of them fixed their glances at her.

She looked around herself, everything flooding back to her, and she looked frightened as she looked confused. Looking aside, for an order or instruction of what to do, how to act, Tarralyanna noticed that her Master had hoisted up his hood, concealing his face. He said nothing.

"You!" whispered Larynthe, staring at Tarralyanna, who raised any eyebrow haughtily. "You brought me here! Where am I?"

Tarralyanna looked toward her Master, who whispered out a sentence in Sith to her, while the Jedi was glancing from one to the other. She was bound with something black and exceptionally firm, she found. She tried summoning the Force, but it felt as though she was missing that ability, as though someone had plucked out the bit of brain that was Force-sensitive. This scared her. She had grown up with the Force, and not to feel it, well, it felt as though she was blind and deaf and helpless, all in one, and it was a terrible feeling indeed.

"What happened to Waak?" whispered Larynthe, staring at Tarralyanna, for she, her opponent, was the only one in the room she knew and spoke to. There was almost a pleading look on her face as she stared at the Sith who defeated her. Tarralyanna straightened up a little.

"He is dead," she said.

Larynthe pulled at her chains for a few moments, but then she slumped back on the floor. The desire to somehow avenge his death was gone from her, and she sat listless on the floor, her head bowed. She did not care what would happen to her, but she could not imagine why they have spared her life.

The Dark Lord spoke to Tarralyanna with a few quick, hissing words, after what she nodded, and got to her feet. Larynthe looked up as she placed something beside her. It was an earthen ewer, full of water. Larynthe stared at the person who spared her life and glanced over her beautiful features, which were now frozen in an expression of complete dispassionateness. The Sith was now wearing a black shirt and matching pants, her hair let loose and falling down her back; her sapphire eyes were as cold as ice as she looked down upon her. She pointed wordlessly at the ewer and distanced herself away. Larynthe stared at her for a few moments, after what she reluctantly reached out for the ewer – the chains were just about long enough to allow her to reach out for it and drink – and took a few shaky gulps.

She put it down and glanced around herself. She was sitting in the strangest place she could imagine. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, everything was red and seemed to be made of the same soil which could be found in the whole land of Gnath. The room she was sitting in looked more like a cavern than a room; there was absolutely no furniture, no nothing, except for the simple earthen plates from which the three Sith obviously ate and who now sat in silent conversation in that hissing language she could not understand. They no longer paid any attention to her. She glanced over herself, noting with surprise that the wound on her belly was healed and she wondered how long had she been unconscious, for such a wound would take weeks to heal, if at all. It was almost fatal, she was certain, and she remembered the horrible feeling of life seeping away from her as the blades of that deadly weapon tore through her flesh.

She bowed her head and gave in to troubled thoughts. They have killed Waak, but they have spared her. Why? What was it that they wanted with her? To torture her for amusement? She did not rule out that possibility; according to the legends, the Sith lived for the thrill of killing, and torture just might be a just overture to it. She did not care, at length, listening to their hissing, and wondering what sort of a language it was. They spoke to each other fluently, and laughed as they drank. But it seemed to Larynthe that the hooded person was a master, if there was such a thing with the Sith. He was clearly being treated with respect by the two Sith, who sat close to each other, but a little away from him. The strong male she was certain killed Waak was smoking a long pipe, filling Larynthe's lungs with unbearably thick smoke. She coughed.

"Tammutyen knows the laws of battle well," said the Dark Lord, smirking, and glancing toward his student who was fingering an object through a piece of cloth. "One wins, one claims the opponent's life. But it goes further than that. One wins, and one can do whatever he desires with the opponent. Such were the beliefs of the ancient Sith. And if the one who got defeated has any honour at all, he would not defend himself, nor would he be afraid of his fate. But after one does what he desires with the opponent's body –" He looked pointedly at Tammutyen, who smiled contently. "—he can take a prize, to remind him of his triumph. Tammutyen, of course, kept the Jedi's Jalá sword, but also – well, out with it, my apprentice."

Tammutyen looked a little embarrassed, but unsurprised at the fact his Master knew what he was hiding. He slowly pulled out a lock of hair, and lifted it in the air. As he did so, there was a stifled choking sound coming from the direction of the Jedi, who apparently recognised it. The two turned around to look at her and burst into laughter that rang in her ears.

"Yes, I daresay Lord Tammutyen shall be starting a fine collection," laughed the Dark Lord, looking at it with a glint in his eye. "Tarralyanna also got herself a trophy. I am aware of the fact that I deprived you of your reward by stopping you before you could kill your opponent, my apprentice, but there shall be more Jedi for you, never fear."

Tarralyanna wondered what he wanted to say with this while he was busy with his pipe. He puffed out a great cloud of smoke from under his hood, and then looked at them in turn, the corners of his lips curling into a smile.

"Now that we have completed our task in Gnath, we shall be taking leave," he said unexpectedly.

Tammutyen straightened up so fast he almost dropped his own pipe and he winced. His muscles were aching, for despite of the fact that Waak did not really pose a challenge for his battle skills, still he was fighting with all that he had, and to fight at such a level makes even a hand wave difficult. Thus he was now suffering from an unpleasantly persistent muscle ache. He grimaced.

"Now, do not worry about the Jedi," said the Dark Lord, pointing at Larynthe with his pipe, who stared at the ringed hand pointing toward her, wondering what they were talking about. "She is going nowhere. The ore on her limbs is one of the greatest discoveries of my Master's – it makes one absolutely incapable of sensing any side of the Force, and therefore unable to summon it. I should know, for he used it many times on me."

He gave an odd chuckle and fixed his gaze on the Jedi.

"Yes, she shall prove to be very interesting," he said thoughtfully. "I am very curious as to find out why the Dark side is attracted to her. Very curious indeed."

oooooooooooooooooo

The following morning, there was an odd procession coming out of the tomb. Larynthe had been force-fed by Tammutyen, who was pushing raw fish into her mouth until he thought she ate enough. Of course, he was measuring the size of her meal according to Tarralyanna's standards, and therefore, Larynthe was left hungry. She was at first very reluctant to eat, of course, believing that by succeeding in declining food long enough she might die; but then the monumental Sith simply reached out for her jaw, opened it with his fingers without any use of the Force, almost breaking it, and began pushing fish into her mouth. She had to swallow, or choke on it. After he was done with feeding her, having enjoyed this task, he delightedly caught an ewer with water and began to pour water into her mouth as well. Gulping quickly, Larynthe was coughing and fighting for breath while he was busy with putting the plate and ewer away, after what he turned to her, grimaced evilly, and then distanced himself away, his black cloak swirling about him.

The Dark Lord walked ahead of them, his hood over his head; then came Larynthe, whose legs were now unbound so that she could walk, but the shackles on her wrists still made it quite impossible for her to use the Force, in any way, because she could not sense it at all, let along use it. She had to wonder at this and at first she did not believe that it had anything to do with her bonds. But then it occurred to her that she had never seen metal of this colour and began thinking about it. It was black and it was not shiny, as metal normally was. It seemed to absorb light, too. After her came Tarralyanna and Tammutyen, keeping an eye on her and whispering to each other, going through their duels. As expected, Tarralyanna got to hear Tammutyen's analysis of his own duel, and the two of them discussed this topic until it was exhausted. They had plenty of time to do this, while they followed their Master through the volcanic land, climbing red hills and sliding down the slopes, laughing at Larynthe who fell a number of times.

Larynthe was exhausted, despite of the fact she had eaten and drank. She crumbled down after seven hours of such up-and-down walking and Tarralyanna lifted her back to her feet with the Force, pushing her onward. So she stumbled for another hour, after what she fell again. The Dark Lord paused and turned, as Tarralyanna cursed in Sith.

"Are all Jedi that weak?" she asked, staring at Larynthe angrily.

"Her weakness is a product of many things," said her Master, coming toward her. "But let us rest, then. Tammutyen, you shall feed her. You seem to be very good at it."

"With pleasure, my Master," said Tammutyen, bowing and seizing a handful of fish from his bag, striding off toward the fallen Jedi who lay on the russet soil, where she first fell. There was a short struggle on her part, who weakly tried to push the food away, flinching in fear when she opened her eyes and spotted the Sith grinning evilly at her. But as he lifted her to a sitting position with a careless wave of his hand and began pushing fish into her mouth, she began to gulp like a helpless child. Tarralyanna was watching and chuckling happily, whereas the Dark Lord nodded to himself, looking away and pulling out his own meal. Larynthe keeled over on her back as soon as Tammutyen left her in peace, having watered her, too, and thus remained lying on the ground, with no one paying attention to her any more. With the Sith using the Dark side the whole time, she felt drained, empty, tossed into the pit of despair and darkest lethargy. The chill vibrating around her as Tammutyen used the Dark side to lift her still filled her as she tried to breathe evenly, lying on her side.

"Master, may I ask something that has been puzzling me for a very long time?" asked Tarralyanna tentatively, looking away from the unmovable figure of the Jedi. Her Master fixed his glance upon her and nodded silently, chewing.

"How can the Jedi fight without the use of Rage?" she asked the very question that spun in her mind ever since she fought with Larynthe. "Do they not get angry? If they are fighting and get hit, if they feel pain – they have to get angry. Do they not? I cannot understand it."

She was staring at him pleadingly, for mysteries of such depth did not really agree with her. Tarralyanna was used to knowing things, to understanding things, even though she despised them. But this simply baffled her, and she did not like the feeling.

"Of course they feel anger," the Dark Lord said with a graceful wave of his hand, spitting out bones. "But they do not use it as we do, they push it away as a negative emotion, and flee from it."

"But why?" asked Tarralyanna, now even more confused.

"They are afraid of it, my apprentice," said the Dark Lord calmly. "And as I warned you so many times before, fear is poison. Because of it, they are blind. They are running away from themselves, and there can be no advancement if one keeps running before something, no power. However, the light side of the Force does not require fearlessness to make it effective, nor does it need fantastic control of one's emotions and control of anger."

"Why would one be afraid of anger, my Master?" asked Tammutyen in turn, staring at him with his eyes wide in surprise.

"Because," said the Dark Lord, wagging his finger at him, "they are afraid of what they might become. _Think_, my apprentice. Remember – what happens if you allow your anger to take control over you?"

"It turns back upon me and the Dark side refuses to obey me," said Tammutyen promptly. He experienced this too many times not to know exactly what happens, from step one to step four.

"Exactly," said the Dark Lord. "And who would not be afraid of something that keeps turning back upon him? Something that is so powerful and so horrible in the whole of its strength and size, that keeps turning back upon one – solely because of the lack of control, but to fear something and attempt to control it means running in circles, do you not agree? – has to be avoided."

"But then how do they control the light side of the Force?" asked Tarralyanna. "What do they use, if they do not use Rage? Will, perhaps?"

"Yes, will," said the Dark Lord, nodding at her. "Will, among other things. However, you shall find that such a will, that is undermined by fear, which is lurking and waiting to jump atop of them when their control is lame, cannot ever become a strong will such as one that the Dark side demands of its servants. Wherever there is fear, there is weakness. And weakness is the path to destruction. Destruction, by the Dark side, yes – this part of their doctrine is quite true. But the Dark side, as you know it, is being controlled _by_ you, rather than it is controlling you. This is a crucial, vital difference. You are not the haunted ones, the weak ones, the prosecuted ones, the slaves; you are servants, but proud servants, and the Dark side obeys you. Because you have risen above the plain, chaotic minds of mortals, and because your commands to it are clear. This is why you can control it. And this is why the Jedi are afraid of the Dark side. They cannot understand it, and therefore they fear it. They see only one side of it, the destructive side; perhaps there were a few poor Jedi who began to understand the scope of power of the Dark side, what it could do, who realised its potential. But to work with it, for someone who does not have a natural talent for it, if atop of it one is self-taught, means failure and death from the start."

The three of them looked in Larynthe's direction, who was still lying motionless. Tarralyanna lifted her eyebrows, thinking about this. One cannot blame anyone for ignorance, she thought – this rule was not valid for her and Tammutyen, of course, for they never had this luxury. And that poor Jedi was ignorant. She almost felt sorry for her.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Larynthe sat leaning against a rock in the evening, her eyes following the two Sith who were going about their business, whereas their master, or who appeared to be their master, had disappeared behind the sharp bits of rock clustered at the foot of the volcanic hill. They were undressed, wearing only their trousers and boots, their belts with their weapons lying beside them She watched the male speak to the female Sith, his knees drawn up to his chest, smiling at her and gesticulating as he spoke. The female sat with her legs folded under and gave away the impression of great flexibility, stretching every now and then, drawing up her legs to her head, nodding at him and cutting in with an occasional comment. They were not looking at her at all.

She would never have imagined that there were three Sith, and not just one, even if someone told her that a month ago – but they were there, right in front of her. That muscle-bound Sith was the murderer of her dear Waak, and the memory of him still allured tears to her eyes. Silent tears began to flow down her cheeks as she watched them, Waak's face smiling hovering in front of her. She wished she could converse with his spirit, as master Bakku could. The female Sith accidentally looked in her direction, and pointed a finger at her. The male looked at her, too, and raised his eyebrows. They seemed to be talking about her and Larynthe stared back. He asked the female something, who stared at Larynthe with an expression which could almost be called as amazement and shook her head. Larynthe had no idea what they were talking about.

"Ah, let us play a little guessing game," said Tarralyanna, staring at the Jedi. "No use of the Force, all right? Why is she crying? Do you reckon she is in pain?"

Larynthe sniffed and wiped off her face with her sleeve, bowing her head once again.

"Do we care?" asked Tammutyen in an even voice.

"No, of course not," said Tarralyanna seriously. "But it makes me wonder how she could be in pain if Master healed all of her wounds. Perhaps she is hungry?"

"Humans do not cry when they are hungry," said Tammutyen, giving an awkward laugh.

"I read that younglings, babies that is, do," said Tarralyanna, looking at him. Tammutyen was thoughtful for a moment, as he was unable to dispute his sister's knowledge, and then shrugged with his wide shoulders.

"Perhaps she needs to go to the toilet again," he said slowly. Tarralyanna looked impressed.

"Very good," she said, smacking him on the back with approval. "I have not thought of that! But then why does she not simply do it?"

"Perhaps she is embarrassed," Tammutyen continued his good line of thinking, encouraged. Tarralyanna was about to retort to him, believing he was going in the right direction, at what their Master reappeared behind them.

"Or perhaps," he said, looking from one to the other, "she is mourning her friend's death."

This took the both of them by surprise and for a moment they simply stared at him, speechless. Then Tarralyanna let out an odd sound, something between a snort and an exclamation, and shook her head.

"But_ why_, my Master?" she asked.

"Because she misses him," he said, coming toward them and sitting down on a bit of rock, propping himself against his elbows with the water flask in his right hand. "She misses him."

"But that is selfish," said Tarralyanna in surprise. "Why would she regret him not being here? He is with the Force, is he not? Delivered of all pain, out of his body. Do the Jedi not pride themselves with selflessness?"

"Yes, we know he is with the Force," said the Dark Lord, "But she cannot help herself. She simply misses him and wishes he was here, to support her and to comfort her."

"How… strange," said Tammutyen, glancing back toward the Jedi, who was once again looking at them.

"Not to mention contradictory," mumbled Tarralyanna, "She loves him, and yet she wishes him ill by desiring he was here. I shall never understand that."

"The minds of common people are chaotic, terrible places to dwell in," said her Master with a laugh, leaning aback. "But here you have a specimen to study, my apprentice. I am beginning to see this will prove to be very useful to you."

"Thank you, my Master," she said, nodding gravely at him. "You are quite right, of course."

He nodded back and distanced himself away, to lie down a little away from them. In the gathering darkness, Larynthe could see the two young Sith speak for a while, after what they rolled on their backs and closed their eyes. She must have fallen asleep from exhaustion in the sitting position, and opened her eyes the following morning to see the broad-shouldered Sith standing before her, booting her and brandishing a handful of fish. She bound up, staring at him. His black eyes frightened her, and his white, deadly white skin looked as though it belonged to a dead person. There was an air of inhumanity about him that rendered his use of the Dark side quite superfluous in order to make her feel chill sweeping over her.

"Look, Jedi," he said in Albinian, which was harsh and hissing, just like the language they used all the time. "I can feed you again. Or you can do it yourself. So make a choice."

She stared at him, at loss for words, her glance sweeping his naked, tattooed torso. He shrugged and bent forward, meaning to grab her and force her to eat.

"I will eat!" she shrieked in a broken voice.

He withdrew, furrowed his brow and dropped the fish into her lap, placing a water flask beside her, and then turned around, leaving her. She breathed with relief. But as she stared down at her revolting meal, she noted that he sat down to eat as well and fixed his glance upon her. She knew that he would be there in a second if she did not start eating, and thus she began gulping down the strange white fish with her eyes closed.

When she looked up once again, he was drinking from a brown jar, whereas the female Sith was pushing something white and fluffy in her mouth. Larynthe had no idea what they ate and she did not wish to find out. After they were done with their meal, they put everything away, lifted her to her feet, and ordered her to walk. Larynthe learned very quickly to pause when their master would pause as well, the chill of the Dark side swirling around him, as he was obviously trying to decide in which direction to proceed. In the beginning Lady Tarralyanna would freeze Larynthe in mid-air with a point of her finger, not wishing Larynthe to come too close to her Master while he was trying to bring a decision. These instances have been unpleasant enough for Larynthe and she learned how to behave very quickly, in order to minimise the contact with the Dark side.

The more time she spent with the three Sith, the more Larynthe realized they were not human, that they could not possibly be human. Aside with their peculiar appearance, they seemed to endure the journey just fine, talking and laughing most of the time. Their master never said a word; he was simply leading the way and was not paying the slightest attention to her. Of course, Tarralyanna and Tammutyen were in a far better physical and metal condition than they were in when they started the journey – but the truth was, they never allowed exhaustion to show on their faces. They would rather talk and joke, than admit to themselves and to their bodies that they were weary.

The sight of the bridge leading across the gorge took Larynthe by surprise, and she stared at it with faint hope that she might throw herself off it and die in the depths of the gorge without the Sith noticing. However, they seemed to realise this, and thus they levitated her across the gorge, their hands outstretched before them, the Dark side enveloping Larynthe and making her shiver, depriving her of air. Before she felt a faint glimmer of hope that she was indeed dead, as the warmth of her own body was gone from her, she opened her eyes to find herself lying at the other side, looking at the feet of the Sith master. She looked away at once, taking a few deep breaths, and glanced back at the two just on time to see them cross the bridge. The eyes of the female were closed, she noted with surprise. Was she using the Dark side to navigate her way? Larynthe knew that she could not have done the same thing with the light side. She could stretch out her senses to perceive objects and beings in the distance, but she was not so confident in her abilities that she would use them to navigate her way across a narrow bridge using the Force senses only. She had never thought this was possible in the first place, and she had never seen any master at the Jedi Temple do this either.

The fire of Gnath now a distant echo, they rested in the green valley that brought back the air of hope and certain memory of the light side to Larynthe. Sitting down in the shade of a tree, to which they bound her and left food for her there, she was watching the female Sith coming back from the well, carrying both skins, the male's and hers, on her back, barely visible under them. Larynthe's great shock, however, came as she was eating berries she picked, merely wishing to taste something alive, something filled with the Force, at what the hooded Sith master came up to them and barked out a few harsh words. The two got to their feet at once. The female took out her weapon and the male was busy with his scabbard which he had been carrying on his back all this time. Larynthe breathed in deeply. She was certain they would kill her now. Perhaps she proved to be more of a burden than a amusement for them, and now they finally decided to dispose of her. It was just as well.

But it was quite the opposite. The hooded master stood watching, his hands crossed on his chest, with an air of tremendous authority, while the two began stretching and adjusting their weapons. Larynthe watched the female Sith spin her weapon around her head with her eyes closed, in all directions, alternating the speed and height of the formidable spheres, never looking at it, now concluding that they were ordered to practise. She did not believe such a thing existed for the Sith – she believed that hate and anger would do the trick. She always imagined them as desperate, lonely creatures that gave in to the ways of the Dark side because of their traumas, bad experiences in life, and she never, ever thought for a moment that they might know what honour is, what an honourable duel meant and that they could bear the company of another. But there were three of them and the two seemed to put up with each other just fine, despite of the fact that they seemed to have a somewhat aggressive way of communication.

The male walked out of the field, carrying his weapon and sat down on the grass with his legs spread, stretching and leaving the female stand alone in the centre of the green field, apparently getting ready for something. She began to spin, the spheres revolving around her head, up and down and around, as she jumped, swung and kicked the air with her feet and fists, simulating hits, crouched and sprang, all with incredible speed and control. Larynthe had never seen anything like it and for the first time in weeks, she was actually taking notice of what was going on around her. This seemed to kick her out of the stupor her paltry existence since her capture had been filled with. She tried to imagine what Waak might say if he saw this.

After a few minutes, the female stopped and paused at one place for a moment, after what she relaxed and walked away, whereas the male got to his feet, and, spinning his sword in his one hand, swapped places with her. This seemed to be a regular practice. As he was stomping down the grass and pulling back his gloves, Larynthe had time to look around for their master. He was gone. The female had dropped her weapon to the ground and was standing on one foot only, holding her other one in her hand and pulling it up to her head with a strained expression.

Larynthe's eyes began to water as she tried so very hard to follow what was going on. As they swapped places over and over again and repeated what was obviously the same succession of movements, for she had seen similarities in the movements of both, she was mesmerized with what she was seeing. This was so much different from what they were taught at the Jedi Temple; but all the same, they were not human, and so they could do things humans could not, she thought. However, Sith or not, there was something fantastic about what they were doing, she thought, and this looked like some wild battle dance to her. For what was this used? Why were they not practising with an opponent, like the Jedi do it? Do they not do Force manipulation exercises or practise on objects?

So it went on and on and lasted for over one hour. As they passed each other by they exchanged comments, turning and playing with their weapons as though they were toys, nothing more, nothing less. But they were terrible, lethal toys indeed, remembering the female Sith's duel with her. Perhaps half an hour after they were done and were sitting once again, wiping off sweat, the Sith master reappeared, carrying a weapon in his hand and striding toward them. They bowed as he settled down on the grass beside them and distributed something among them. Now Larynthe had questions piling up in her head and she regretted having already eaten her meal. That way she would have had the chance to ask that inhuman beast a few things, if he would answer. Even if she ended up beaten or tortured, she believed it was worth the risk.

They have been sitting together and eating for some time, not looking at her. The two got to their feet when they were done and started cleaning up, whereas the Sith master, to Larynthe's horror, headed straight toward her. She glued herself to the trunk of the tree she was bound to and stared at the black hood with a growing feeling of horror. He stood before her for a few moments, scrutinising her, after what he raised a hand. Larynthe closed her eyes, bracing up. The Dark side extended from him and hovered over her belly, where her wound used to be, which was now fully healed, and skimmed over her body, searching for more injuries or maladies. She endured this, trembling. Then she felt him reach out for her thoughts. She could not defend herself, even if she wanted to, and she felt the unbearable chill in her every cell, a steely hand rummaging around her mind at will, digging out the particulars of her journey with Waak, all that had transpired, all that they learned about the Sith hiding in Gnath and all of the reasons why they have come there. Then bits and pieces of her dreams, her prophetic visions, began flashing before her mind's eye, with her quite helpless, unable to stop this, feeling paralysed as she felt this steely, unyielding hand search through her mind. At length, when it seemed that he learned all that he wanted to, he withdrew his hand and the chill of the Dark side was gone. He turned around and headed back to the two Sith without a word. Larynthe breathed out, sweat dripping off her forehead. She felt drained and exhausted.

He spoke to the two of them, who leaned closer to hear, after what they looked at Larynthe, who stared back. Then the male broke out of the group and approached Larynthe in a long, firm stride. He pulled at the chain tied around a tree and set her free, tugging her to her feet. He glanced over her and then smirked.

"You shall be riding with Lady Tarralyanna," he said.

"Riding?" whispered Larynthe. She had not used her voice for weeks and it almost seemed as though she forgot how to speak. She caught sight of three black horses trotting toward the Sith, who were now putting saddles on their backs. Where did they come from?

The male Sith wordlessly gave the chain a tug and she stumbled, forced to follow him, the chains on her hands clanking as she skipped after him.

"Are there more of you?" asked Larynthe in a hoarse voice. The Sith looked back in mild surprise.

"More of who?" he asked.

"Sith," she answered, pronouncing the word after a pause.

"Now why would you ask me that?" he asked, turning to her and laughing.

"I am merely curious," she said.

"Humans," he mumbled, snorting with laughter. "My Master," he addressed the Sith master in Albinian, to Larynthe's great surprise. He turned, his hood looking in his direction. "She spoke."

"Indeed," answered a quiet voice from under the hood. He fixed his glance upon Larynthe, who looked down at her feet, thinking fast. Then he looked away, speaking to the female Sith, who was putting things into her saddlebags and adjusting the reins. She nodded to whatever he told her.

Then she turned to Larynthe, disconnected the long chain running from her wrists, putting it away, and pushed her toward her horse. She caught her around her waist, and lifted her easily over her head. Larynthe grabbed the black, smooth leather of the saddle with a jerk, as she was so startled with this she nearly fell over. Then the Sith mounted herself, and, embracing her from the back, spurred the horse forward. Larynthe was much shorter than she was, so that the Sith had a clear view. She shivered as the Sith gripped her firmly from behind, her leather glove resting on her belly. Leaning against her flat, bony chest, Larynthe gazed ahead of her, wondering where they were taking her and realising that every chance of escape or attempt of suicide were now out of the picture, with the Sith riding with her. As they rode on and left the green valley of Jin, mountains began to loom up on the horizon, towering over the land of Gnath which was now a distant memory they left behind them. As it became apparent that the mountains were bound in ice, Larynthe realised with a gasp where they were heading. Gotan, the kingdom of ice and snow.

– end of Part One –


	22. Chapter 21 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

PARS II

CAP. XXI – The Will of Light

A new day dawned in the land of Gotan and the Cyrron sun loomed up on the horizon, the mountain peaks gleaming with white, untouched snow surrounding the towering black fortress situated above a large town stretching underneath it. Larynthe had an intuitive feeling that this was where they were heading, because it looked so very Sith-alike, and she was right. The narrow serpentine path lead right up to the top of the hill, and the gate was opened as soon as the Sith master came riding up toward it, nodding at the person who opened it. Passing through the tall, creaking iron gate on Tarralyanna's horse, Larynthe looked round to see who was it that opened it. She half-expected to see yet another figure in black robes, but it was a Malaskian servant, who was bowing very low and not looking at whoever was coming in. It seemed to suffice that the Sith master was leading them, and whoever followed, was equally welcome.

Tarralyanna dismounted her horse after she simply pushed Larynthe off it with a malicious grin. They were home, home at last. She looked up to the Western tower, her Master's tower, and her smile deepened as she set her eyes on the fire of Yllen – everlasting, beautiful, strong, the black flames soared high in the air and filled her with a profound feeling of belonging.

("Now,") said her Master in Sith, turning to her with his saddlebag in his hand, ("the two of you shall take our guest to the one of the chambers in the Northern wing. There you shall bind her and leave her. I shall instruct the Malaskians in all matters of importance and later come to have a little chat with her.")

He looked in Larynthe's direction, who got to her feet in the meantime, brushing off dirt from her robes and looking around herself.

The vast courtyard was covered in fine snow and in the middle there was a fountain made out of black marble, covered in ice, but despite of the low temperatures water trickled from the top and poured over the rim. The building in front of her looked like a huge tomb, thought Larynthe – tall and silent, rising up threateningly in the air and looking down sternly upon the town underneath it. Larynthe looked toward the entrance with her heart beating very fast. None of the Jedi had come this far. She had been taken to the home of the Sith, to the snakes' nest. After Waak was killed and she got captured, she felt she had no reason to live, but now she reconsidered it. She could still be of some use to the Force and to the Jedi Order. If the Jedi Order was still ignorant of the existence of the Sith, she could learn all she could about them, of their ways and how they functioned.

("Should we speak to her, Master?") Tarralyanna asked, her spare robes draped over her shoulder, holding up a chain in the air as though to ask him whether the Jedi should be bound.

("Tell her only what she needs to know,") said the Dark Lord after a pause. ("But no more. And bind her in her room.")

They watched him go, nodding in their passing to the Malaskian servants, who had come out to await their masters and who stared ins surprise at the prisoner they brought with them.

"Come on, you," said Tammutyen, giving Larynthe a little push that made her stumble forward, at what he chuckled. Tarralyanna went first, leading the way through the Temple.

"Where are we?" Larynthe whispered, glancing around herself.

Wherever she looked, there was gleaming black marble and torches which crackled in their racks dotting the walls. In her passing Larynthe spotted a metallic plate full of strange scarlet symbols, but Lord Tammutyen gave her an impatient push as she paused and she was forced to stumble onward. They quickly arrived to a quadratic chamber which seemed to be a sort of a crossroad, because there were many corridors leading in different directions. Lady Tarralyanna disappeared in the corridor leading straight, which was the way to the northern wing. A magnificent chandelier hung from the centre of the quadratic hall, in which however burned only three candles. The Sith did not strike Larynthe as creatures who enjoyed sunlight. At least that part of the legend was true.

Swords and axes, all sorts of strange, horrible, gleaming weapons hung from the walls – long, pointy stilettos; large axes that looked as though they have once belonged to a Droddian warrior; heavy, double-edged swords with gilded hilts decorated with jewels. The silent corridor stretched in front of them, ending in a narrow staircase.

"The Sith Temple," answered the female Sith, pausing a little on the first landing of the staircase and looking back at Larynthe. "Watch where you step."

The silent, crouching rage was behind every wall, in every dark curtain – she was surprised to see them, because she believed that such a place would not normally have windows at all – and she shivered, despite of the heat. There was something inexplicably horrible about the place. Larynthe never believed that buildings could be malicious – but this one certainly was. It seemed to have a soul, to possess a voice, and she felt its eyes follow her about, as someone who was very out of place here. It filled her with a great feeling of unease, to be walking through the silent, dark corridors and she felt the Dark side spill over her as soon as she set foot into the building, along with a wave of heat which intensified as they went on.

"Get used to it," said Lady Tarralyanna, obviously answering her thoughts and leading the way. Larynthe took a deep breath, beginning to sweat. The Sith also seemed to like the heat coming from the numerous torches and fires burning all around the Temple. She did notice, however, that many of them were burning behind metallic plates, so that the place would remain in half-darkness. "We like it."

Lady Tarralyanna led the way to the end of the corridor on the first floor and there pushed an iron door open. The room was empty, except for a small bed by the window and a rickety table in the middle of it, with one chair drawn up to it. The walls and the floor were made of black marble, as everything else in the Sith Temple, but the floor was covered with an old moth-eaten brown rug.

She pulled out a long chain from her robes and nodded at the male Sith who was standing by the doorway.

"Right," said Tarralyanna in Albinian, connecting the other end of the chain to a sturdy ring in the wall after she attached it to Larynthe's wrists. "This is where you shall sleep and eat. These are your own personal quarters."

"I daresay that the Malaskians shall be here shortly, to bring you food," she said, as Larynthe sat down on the edge of the bed shakily, looking up to the Sith with hatred in her eyes. The Sith smiled.

"You know," she said softly, leaning toward her. "All that anger and hatred will do you no good in your struggle between two sides of the Force. You think about that."

She laughed at Larynthe's expression and left the room, with the monumental male Sith giving her one last evil grin and then closing the door behind them. Larynthe sighed and buried her face in her hands, which clanked. This was simply fantastic, she thought. She was in a real, standing Sith Temple and was now seeing things none of the Jedi have ever seen and yet she could not tell anyone. Sacrifices are needed for great causes such as this one, she thought – but how far was she actually ready to go? How much would I endure, she asked herself?

In no more than one hour two Malaskian women entered the room, at the sight of whom Larynthe jumped, but then relaxed as the timid-looking, scared women shuffled in, carrying what was undoubtedly food. A male Malaskian entered after them, dragging what looked like a bucket full of steaming water. Their glances met only for a brief second, before he glanced away and simply pointed at the bucket. The two women uncovered the food trays and then left the room without a word to Larynthe, whose voice had gone hoarse from trying to ask them things and failing to get any response. Sitting down in the bucket after she tossed away all her clothes, she reckoned she should not have shouted. They know nothing and they would probably be tortured to death or something of the sort if they ever betrayed the Sith, who obviously ordered them to do this. Startled with the fact that she was actually sent food and hot water, she sat in hot water for some time, scrubbing herself with a simple soap that had been left for her on the table. After taking a bath she started eating, her mind wandering.

Once she felt much better, able to think and feeling stronger on her feet, having eaten most of the things that had been brought to her, she approached the window and drew back the heavy, black curtain. All she could see were the mountains; around her, before her, in the distance, wherever she looked, there were ice-capped mountains and the usually violet sky of Horukaan looked as though bound in frost, as thick mist swirled around her window, obscuring the view. Her meal was very simple, but tastier and larger than those she had been given while travelling. A bit of a mountain goat, strange brown vegetables she liked despite of the fact they were a little too raw – probably the Sith liked it that way, she thought – and a large salad of assorted green and violet leaves she would not normally enjoy, but days of starvation made her preferences quite irrelevant.

She stood so wrapped in a large blanket left for her, gazing out of the window and wondering at the warmth spreading through the place; she was certain that she would not be able to stand naked with that rag wrapped around her in the Jedi Temple, despite of the fact the Sith Temple was located in a mountain land. Yes, she remembered; the Sith preferred warmth and dark. And this place was certainly both. As she pondered this, the door suddenly opened and she turned, her wet hair falling over her shoulders. The look of anticipation was replaced by a look of horror. The hooded person in the doorway was none other but the Sith master, who stared at her for a few moments, before he came in and closed the door behind him. She pressed herself against the wall, staring at his hood, whereas he glided forward a few paces and then paused.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked in a strange, hissing voice.

"The Dark Lord," she whispered, her voice trembling as she said the words aloud which had been spinning in her mind all this time.

The figure smiled under the hood, she thought, and then made a sideway pace. He was wearing boots like the two young Sith, reaching up his knees, so very much like those the Jedi wore, and a long, wide cloak brushing against the floor. His cloak was undone, and Larynthe could see a hint of a shirt he was wearing underneath. Larynthe did not doubt the least that his body was covered in symbols and pictures, too.

"And do you know why you are here?" he asked.

Larynthe shook her head, expecting him to torture for her ignorance. However, she presumed they have brought her with them simply because she was a Jedi. Her trembling hand clenched around the hard material of the curtain and she caught it firmly, as though that might help her.

"My apprentices need a play toy," he said unexpectedly. For the first time he affirmed her suspicions, namely that the two young Sith were his apprentices. Larynthe wondered in the beginning which one was his apprentice, given the presumption that a master only ever had just one apprentice. Was it a Sith custom to have more?

"They need someone trained in the Jedi skills they can work with, someone they can study and observe, someone who can tell them about the world and someone they can play with. They need a pet, and I have made you one."

He paused, allowing for these words to sink in, with Larynthe watching him as though transfixed, unable to tear her eyes off from his hood.

"But this in not the only reason," said the Dark Lord almost softly, crossing his hands on his back. "No. I require your presence here as well. Neither your companion nor your master were suitable candidates. But you, Jedi, seem to attract the Dark side. You would never be able to enter this Temple without possessing this ability. Do you know why you attract the Dark side?"

Larynthe could not bring herself to speak. She could not feel either side of the Force, still wearing those metallic shackles, and thus she could not know whether she was attracting the Dark side at the time, in such an amount that she would be allowed to actually enter a Sith Temple. But, she remembered with a pang that the Dark side spilled over her as she duelled with the female Sith; her chest filled up with pain and regret as she remembered this and she swallowed something hard and bitter, trying to deny this, but knowing deep within, that he was right. She shook her head.

"No matter," said the Dark Lord with a hint of laughter, gracefully waving a hand. "I shall find out."

He turned away from her, glancing over the room.

"You shall be unbound and free to walk around this wing. I believe shackles will suffice. My apprentices shall come to fetch you and only in such circumstances you shall be allowed to leave this wing. You shall find me reasonable, if you obey me."

He paused and looked at her, Larynthe's heart hammering against her ribs.

"You will be given a chance to earn more freedom. If you behave and obey my apprentices, do all they demand of you without them having to use the finer ways of persuasion, you shall be given more freedom. At any rate, you shall find that escape is quite impossible. But I hear your regret you cannot sense the Force. And that might even be allowed to you, if you follow these simple rules."

Larynthe could not believe her ears; he would let her use the Force? How could he know that she would not reach out for the Jedi masters as soon as she had full control of it? The Dark Lord smiled under the hood, approaching her.

"Oh, I know, Jedi," he almost whispered, answering her thoughts with the same ease his apprentices did this. "I am quite certain. You believe you can benefit from being here; but you forget who I am. You forget which is the power of the Dark side. I have pulled a veil over the eyes of all the Jedi, blinding them to our existence."

He lifted a hand and Larynthe bit her lip, closing her eyes. Even though she could not reach out for the Force herself, she could feel chill penetrating her being and wrapping around her throat. She felt the most terrible experiences in her life loom up before her eyes, all of the pain, all of the sorrow, all of the worst emotions she had ever experienced spilling over her like a wave, throttling her. Sadness and misery filled her up to the point of bursting, and she let out a stifled scream. This emotional pain was almost physical and she felt as though someone had stabbed her with a knife in the chest. She crumbled down to the floor, enduring this pain and pleading with the Force to die quickly.

"Death?" whispered the Dark Lord through as though from afar, giving a mirthless laugh. "Death is not for you, Jedi. Killing is a gesture of mercy."

He lifted his hand and Larynthe gasped, fighting for breath, looking up to the boots of the Dark Lord who was standing before her. The rag which she wrapped around herself after taking a bath fell to the floor but the Dark Lord did not seem to be paying attention to her naked body.

"And to those who enrage me and do not obey me, I am not merciful," he finished in a cold voice, turning away from her. "Bear in mind what I said."

He left the room, leaving her sobbing on the floor, trembling uncontrollably in the aftermath of reliving her worse experiences. She wished with the whole of her heart that Waak was here with her.

She spent a restless night, barely sleeping at all. The place was getting to her and she stared at the black ceiling for hours and hours, lying so in semi darkness. She had left a torch burning, as she did not want to be left in the dark. She felt cold from within despite of the immense heat spreading from the bowels of the temple, despite of the fact she was not hungry anymore and was quite healthy. She cried most of the time, and at some time in the night, she heard terrible screams echoing the Temple. Someone was in great pain and Larynthe listened, her heart hardening. They died away, after what there was a loud roar, as though a wild animal was on the loose; and then there was silence. Soothing sound of falling snow replaced the howling of the wind and she was reminded that it was almost the beginning of the Fiery Season, which certainly looked quite different in Gotan.

Gotan was a land that was not visited much, because of its strict laws and harsh weather. Those who lived there obeyed the laws, and any hint of mutiny was smothered quickly by the merciless ruler of Gotan, who was notorious for his temper. It was said that he would kill anyone who dared to cross him. It was said, too, that his dungeons were full of traitors and that the ruler was obsessed with hunting down all who were against his politics. The Jedi Order, of course, kept their distance from all of this; Larynthe always believed that they should get involved in such and alike cases, to help people, to deliver them from dictatorship. She wondered time and again how the ruler of Gotan was dealing with a Sith Temple in the depths of his land – he probably had no idea. But then she thought back of the conversation she once had with Waak, about a general who would be a suitable candidate for a leader of a world invasion and she sat up in her bed, thinking. Could it be that the ruler of Gotan and the Sith have made a pact? Could it be, that he allowed them to live here and concealed them from the eyes of the public, in return for their service to him? Was it possible that the Sith would serve anyone but themselves?

She fell asleep close to morning, exhausted due to so much pondering and feeling drained after many hours of crying, with the misery and sorrow pressing heavily against her chest. She opened her eyes to look upon a figure in black standing in the doorway. She bound up, clenching the sheets. Another figure came in and Larynthe sat up right on time to see a Malaskian woman bringing in a pile of something that looked like clothes, whereas the female Sith stood with her hands crossed by the doorway, staring at Larynthe with her eyes twinkling with excitement. She was wearing a long black dress without sleeves, which revealed her tattooed arms. The dress was very wide and it swallowed up her lithe figure. Her hair was loose and was falling down her front like a strange, black-violet curtain.

The Malaskian woman left the clothes on the table, picked up the remnants of her lunch, and, with them in her hands, walked to the door, with the Sith waving her away impatiently, her eyes fixed upon Larynthe. Only then she she seemed to remember that Larynthe could not dress with her hands bound and approached her in a few long paces, grabbing her by the hands firmly and lifting them up. She held her palm over each of her shackle and the chain fell to the floor with a clunk. Larynthe watched her from up close, her eyes fixed upon her arms. Her skin appeared to be quite human underneath all those pictures and drawings. Then she noticed a terrible scar on her forearm, which looked as though the young Sith once had an accident with hot iron. Looking better as the Sith fumbled around with her shackles, she recognised the shape of a rose.

"Put these on," said the Sith, pointing at the clothes. "We are going out."

Larynthe got out of bed and noted with annoyance that the Sith was still staring at her, although she distanced herself enough from Larynthe to allow her to stand. She dropped down the bedcover, remaining naked in front of the Sith and picked up a wide shirt and matching trousers, which the Malaskian left for her. She put them on, all the while feeling the eyes of the Sith upon her.

"You look much better in Jedi robes," she said, chuckling, as Larynthe finished tying up her trousers and grabbed the boots. "I shall tell the Malaskians to make a few for you. Tight fitting clothes do not look good on you."

She opened the door and went out, with Larynthe following, anger and hatred boiling within her. Larynthe was certain that she was leading her to the male Sith to practice on her, but she was wrong. While they passed through the many long corridors and descended stairs, Larynthe saw but a few Malaskians who quickly disappeared as they spotted the Sith coming. Walking behind the Sith, Larynthe had to wonder how come the Sith's hair looked shiny and quite healthy, if the Dark side destroyed flesh and brought decay.

The Sith descended a few stone stairs and Larynthe found herself, to her grand surprise, in a solarium, in the midst of which was a round table. Many plants grew all around the solarium, thanks to the vaulted ceiling made of glass, which offered a beautiful sight of the snowy sky above, which however kept the cold away. The place was heated by numerous torches burning behind metallic plates, as it was the case everywhere in the Temple.

As soon as the Sith sat down on a chair gracefully, a Malaskian slave came running and carrying a number of trays in one, and a steaming pot in the other hand. She placed them all on the table with the Sith following her with her glance.

"You are late," she whispered in a dangerous voice, lifting a hand. The Dark side thundered through it and the Malaskian yelped with pain, falling down on the grass. Larynthe jumped, ready to give her a hand to get up, at what the Sith hissed angrily.

"And you," she barked, pointing a finger at Larynthe, who froze where she was. "Sit down."

Larynthe stared at the trembling Malaskian who struggled to her feet, bowing deeply to the Sith, apologising and then running for the arched door as fast as she could, lest the Sith changed her mind and punished her again.

"I have given you an order," said the Sith dangerously. Larynthe gritted her teeth and sat down opposite her, looking at her through her hair with pure hatred. The Sith laughed.

"Now you can eat," she said, pointing at the trays.

Larynthe looked up at her. She could not believe her ears. She thought that this was her meal, but the Sith drew the steaming pot to herself and filled a cup with some dark, hot liquid. Larynthe felt that this was an order she had no problems with obeying, still thinking about the poor Malaskian woman and wondering whether they were always treated like that. It would certainly explain why they avoided the Sith whenever they could.

"And while you eat," said the Sith, strong smell of coffee filling Larynthe's nostrils as she piled loaves of bread on a plate in front of her, "You can answer my questions."

"How old are you?" asked the Sith.

"Twenty-one," answered Larynthe through mouthfuls of buttered bread. She felt very hungry again and was very grateful for the food. She thought that they would starve her, judged by how often and how little they ate.

"Interesting," said the Sith, pulling out what was unmistakably a very long cigarette out of her mouth. "And yet you have not been made a master by your Jedi Order. Why?"

"How do you know I am not a master?" asked Larynthe aggressively.

The Sith's eyes narrowed. Larynthe thought about it well and long – if they showed a sense of honour, then perhaps they would keep to their promises. The Dark Lord told her he would take these horrible wristbands if she would obey his apprentices. And Larynthe thought that this was worth the try, even if it proved to be an empty promise.

"I am Lady Tarralyanna," said the Sith in a strong, dangerous voice, her sapphire eyes flashing. "And you will address me with 'my Lady', like everyone else does. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Larynthe after a pause during which she fantasised about strangling the Sith, smacking her in the face and doing all sorts of things to her she would not normally think about. When this dawned on her, she felt disgusted with herself. It must be all that Dark side around me, she thought. "My Lady," she added through her teeth.

"Good," said the Sith, nodding. Whether or not she perceived Larynthe's animosity, she did not know, but she obviously decided not to remark on it. She took another pull at her slender cigarette and leaned aback. "Well? Do you know why you have not been made a master yet?"

"My teacher told Waak – my companion, the one your friend killed –" said Larynthe, her stomach clenching as she thought about it.

"He is my brother, not my friend," said the Sith, lifting her thin eyebrows.

"He told him before we left the Temple that I was ready for the trials, but that he believed that to see the world would do me some good," finished Larynthe, thinking about what the Sith said. He is her brother?

"I see," said the Sith, thinking about this.

"And how long did it take you to make your Jalá sword?" asked the Sith next. Larynthe was taken by surprise with this question.

"How do you know about that?" she asked. The eyes of the Sith flashed unpleasantly once again and Larynthe hastened to amend her mistake. "My Lady?"

"I know all there is to know about your customs and trials," said the Sith with a laugh, waving a careless hand. "Well?"

"Six days," said Larynthe quietly.

The Sith looked thoughtful and pulled at her cigarette for a while, after what she nodded to herself and looked down on her coffee.

"You have tried to make the sword lighter in the middle of the process of making it. Why?" she asked next.

Larynthe refrained from asking her how the hell she knew that and shook her head, putting down her buttered loaf of bread. Of course, she thought, she has my sword, and she inspected it – but how does she know I tried to make it lighter?

"I started off very enthusiastically, but figured midway through my task that it would not be well if I had to carry such a heavy sword around with me for the rest of my life, let along use it," she said.

"And you have not thought about this prior to making it?" asked the Sith, a small smile hovering upon her lips.

"No, my Lady," said Larynthe.

"Very interesting," said the Sith, staring at her. Larynthe looked down on her plate, angrier than ever before. The Sith laughed.

"I have warned you about that anger," she said, pointing a finger at her. "You need to control it, if you want to get back to your side of the Force. But I am not so sure you want to any more. You have tasted the Dark side once and you liked it. Tut, tut, do not be ashamed of it."

Larynthe opened her mouth for an angry retort, at what the male Sith made an appearance in the solarium, carrying a large axe in his hand, his sword formidable sword resting on his back. He was wearing that strange black shirt and trousers which were tucked in his boots, and Larynthe thought this was the way the Sith normally dressed. This time his clothes was spotlessly clean.

("My sister,") he said softly, coming round the female Sith, placing a large palm on her shoulder and pressing a kiss on her cheek.

Larynthe stared at him. How was it, that the murderer of her friend could be so tender to her? Is this the way they normally behaved around each other? He swung with the axe playfully and then flung it underneath his arm at a Malaskian who appeared in the archway. He yelped and ran away. The Sith laughed loudly and then dropped down to a seat, pointing a finger at the axe which zoomed back into his hand, and set it aside. Then he fixed his glance upon Larynthe. His eyes were as black and as inhuman as ever, but there was a hungry glint in them as he stared at Larynthe, which she simply could not understand. She had seen it in the female Sith's eyes as well. Why were they so excited about Larynthe? Were they planning to torture her?

"How is the whining Jedi doing today?" he cooed at her in his hissing Albinian. "Slept tight?"

("My brother,") exclaimed Tarralyanna. "She is mine today! We agreed!"

"Yes, yes, all right," he said, waving a hand and rolling his eyes at her.

They most certainly had a very good time last night and Tarralyanna was surprised that their Master did not appear in her chambers, ready to whip them within an inch of life if they would not quiet down. Tammutyen smeared black paint all over himself, hid in the wardrobe and there waited for her. As she was taking off her sad'khai, he burst from of the wardrobe, jumped her and bit her savagely. She screamed in surprise and punched him, what excited him even more. He finally caught her on the terrace and they had wild sex on the bench, but it did not stop there. He chased her back into her chambers and attacked her in the bathroom. As Lady Tarralyanna got so exhausted all she could think of was her bed and she still could not get him to calm down – drinking her blood had such an effect on him – she gave him a bit of a cordial, hoping he would finally calm down so that she could get some sleep. It was always a risk, offering him alcoholic drinks, but there was no helping it. Once he had a few sips, he fell asleep with his head on Tarralyanna's feet. Yes, it was a wild night indeed, she thought.

"What did I want to ask?" said Lady Tarralyanna aloud, leaving aside her cup. Larynthe smeared butter over yet another loaf of bread, well aware of Tammutyen's unblinking stare. "Ah, yes," Lady Tarralyanna said, punching Tammutyen in the chest, to tell him that he should stop staring at the Jedi. Was he enjoying the smell of her blood? "Do you know what happens when a Jedi dies?"

"We melt with the Force," said Larynthe, confused.

"Your side of the Force, that is," said Tarralyanna, nodding like a teacher nods at a student who gave the right answer. Larynthe shrugged, not seeing where this was going. "What do you think, how that feels? Do you think that dying and melting with the Force is something terrible?"

"For the Jedi, no," said Larynthe, thinking about the Dark side and wondering how it felt for a Sith to die. "It is bliss, they taught us."

"All right," said Tarralyanna in a business-like manner, pushing aside Tammutyen's thick cigar box so that she could see Larynthe better. "We established that. Then why would you feel sorry for your companion who got killed?"

Larynthe flushed a deep shade of red, trembling with anger.

"She is angry," said Tammutyen, staring at her as though she was some sort of a circus attraction. "Look."

"Indeed," said Tarralyanna, staring at Larynthe with an expression of fascination.

"Why are you asking me this?" said Larynthe through her teeth.

"Manners," said Tarralyanna, wagging a finger at her. Larynthe remembered why it was important to be polite to them and apologised through her teeth. "Manners. Well? Do you think he hates it there?"

Larynthe could not bring herself to speak. However, her thoughts were easily accessible to the two Sith, who exchanged glances.

"You know, that is something I cannot understand," said Tarralyanna softly. "I was hoping you might elucidate it for me. You loved him, right? And yet you wish he was here with you, despite of the fact that he is far better off with the Force. You love him, and yet you want him to suffer. Why?"

Larynthe realised that they were serious about this. Before she just thought they were pulling her by the leg and that they wanted to savour the taste of triumph by laughing at her. However, the both of them stared at her in anticipation, expecting an answer. She huffed with annoyance.

"I do not know," she said, shaking her head. "He was my best friend and I have known him since I was little. Not to have him around is — well, horrible."

Her eyes began to well with tears and the two Sith exchanged a glance. Larynthe noted they were using the Dark side to exchange their thoughts and sat watching them with tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping all over her plate.

("If you would leave us, Tammutyen,") said Tarralyanna. ("She hates you more than she hates me and will not speak if you are present.")

Tammutyen gave Larynthe an evil grin, shrugged and picked up his axe. He headed for the archway humming to himself, cigar in his teeth, leaving billowing clouds of fragrant smoke behind him. Larynthe understood she shooed him away but she could only speculate why.

"That is very interesting," Tarralyanna said softly. "What you just told me."

"Is it?" asked Larynthe, staring at her with obvious hatred in her brown eyes. "Can I ask a question in return? It might help you in your little research of the Jedi." Her voice trembled.

"When you put it like that, certainly," said Tarralyanna, leaning forward with interest.

The Jedi was beginning to intrigue her. She was very intelligent and yet she seemed to be able to note such an obvious contradiction in her reasoning and endure it. For Tarralyanna, it was unthinkable to ever put up with such discrepancies because it meant she was not sure of herself or her actions. For a Sith strong will and certainty about what one was doing were an absolute necessity, because if one showed a grain of doubt, the Dark side would perceive it as weakness and turn back upon one.

"Would you be able to kill your brother?" Larynthe asked with an ugly look on her face. "If your master ordered you, I mean? He _is_ your master, is he not?"

"Yes, he is," answered Tarralyanna, smiling at her. "If he ordered it, of course I would do it."

"It would not fill you with regret?" asked Larynthe. "Not to have him around? You _do_ care about him, do you not?"

"Certainly I care about him," answered Tarralyanna, waving a hand. "But Master's orders are Master's orders. He would never order me such a thing, though – because death would be mercy to us, to deliver us from the pain this existence is. He expects great things from us and he would not give his absolution as easily."

"Death is absolution?" asked Larynthe, anger boiling within her. So this is how the Sith reasoned? All right, two can play this game. "All right. Then what if he ordered you to torture him? That would not be absolution, would it?"

"No," said Tarralyanna, seeing where she was going with this and smiling. "Of course I would obey."

"But would you not feel regret? Remorse? For seeing him suffer?" asked Larynthe on, not believing her ears.

"If he believes my brother deserves punishment, then he deserves it," said the Sith, in a voice that assured Larynthe she really meant this. "I would be more than happy to deliver it to him and he would bear up with it as a true Sith – with honour, without any fear and he would most certainly never beg for mercy."

"Now, that is something _I_ do not understand," said Larynthe, leaning aback and staring at her with her eyes wide open in disbelief. Tarralyanna smiled at her.

"Magnificent," she said happily. "I can see that we have a great time ahead of us. We can always talk like this. Do you have another question? This is all very, very interesting."

She looked sincerely amused with this and was drumming with her fingers against the table, her eyes glinting with excitement. Larynthe snorted, shaking her head. They were animals – horrible, remorseless animals, and what Tarralyanna said only confirmed all her beliefs about the Sith. They were beyond remorse, cold-blooded, and they did not care about anyone. Hang on...

"All right," she said, straightening up. Tarralyanna, sensing another question coming up, interlaced her fingers and leaned forward, staring fixedly at Larynthe. "What if your master died? Whom then would you obey?"

Tarralyanna furrowed her brow. Aha, thought Larynthe – I got her.

"My Master is the voice of the Dark side on Horukaan and by following his orders we fulfil the will of the Dark side," she said, slowly, as though not believing Larynthe did not know this. "We are its servants and it would not matter if my Master was dead or not – the will of the Dark side would be being done."

Larynthe gaped at her, unable to think of an answer. She had not thought about it like that. Did she believe she was fulfilling the will of the Light?

"Whom did you serve, while you were in the Jedi Order?" asked Tarralyanna.

"The Order, of course," said Larynthe without thinking. Tarralyanna laughed.

"The Order? Mortals?" she asked. Larynthe clung on to her last word, wondering whether this was a sign she was not mortal. "Do you mean to tell me that you did not listen to what the Force was telling you yourself? That you were not following orders from it, wishing to execute its will? That you have been blindly following what _people_ were telling you to do?"

"We gave an oath while we were young, to the Jedi Order, to always serve it and obey its wishes," Larynthe started to defend herself. The Sith snorted with laughter and reached out for a glass of water. "How should I know what its will is? It does not really tell us, you know."

"It does not?" whispered Tarralyanna. "Heart of Rage! The light side of the Force must be weaker than I thought. Do you not meditate? You must meditate."

"We do," said Larynthe angrily, thinking back of what the Sith said, her call upon the rage. But of course, she thought – the Sith bow before rage, it is their weapon.

"Well, do you not get visions of its will in your meditations? At least flashes of it?" asked the Sith, shaking her head.

Larynthe thought hard about this. She did get flashes of things, objects, people, but she never really paid any attention to it. She thought this was normal. The Sith read her mind.

"And they do not teach you that at the Jedi Temple?" she asked with an expression of pity. It was questionable whether she really felt pity. "Poor, poor Jedi. If you love and serve the light side of the Force, savouring the power it gives you, then you should at least be ready to return the favour, to execute its will. But instead, you execute the will of a few mortals, not knowing whether they know which is the will of the Force. Do _they_ know? They probably do; but the will of the Force might have some special demands on you, something it wants you to do, what it does not share with a group of people."

Larynthe said nothing, thinking about this. At length she decided she would prefer to ponder this alone.

"I have one more question," she said quietly, looking straight into the sapphire eyes. "You are not human. _What _are you?" She asked the very question which had been spinning in her mind since her duel with the Sith.

The Sith smiled in a triumphant fashion and leaned aback, crossing her hands on her chest.

"I have not been born on this world," she said with a mysterious smile. "May that suffice."


	23. Chapter 22 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXII – The Life of a Sith

No one dared to approach the mansion of the Dark Lord, since he forbade it and warned everyone that he did not wish to be disturbed in his home and all communications with him were done while he was still at the Court. And now they knew why – because it was the home of the Sith. However, that was about to change. Upon a rather warm day of the Fiery Season, a rider galloped out of the gate of Gangar like an arrow. He rode hard for weeks, changing his horse in every village he rode through and arrived at the capital town of the land of Gotan early in the morning, with the giant sun Cyrron still rising. The gates were opened for him and the Chancellor was summoned, to whom the Droddian told at once that he carried an urgent message from Chief Growthak and that he was to deliver it to the ruler of Gotan in person. The Chancellor left him with the general and rode for the mansion of the ruler, a dark sense of foreboding rising within him as he approached it.

The black mansion loomed up in sight, at the highest tower of which burned a black flame. He could never understand how this was possible, for a flame to be black, but for him, anything that had something to do with the Sith was explicable and he accepted it almost without questioning it. They could do it; they could create flame that was black, the colour they favoured the most. He rode right up to the tall gate, and there pulled aback his horse, which seemed to sense the Dark side lurking behind the iron gate and stomped the ground nervously, flaring its nostrils. The Chancellor glanced over the mansion, his throat going dry. He wondered how he was going to do this, whether to yell or knock or what to do. He was certain that this message was very important and he believed that the ruler would forgive him for his intrusion because of two reasons – first, the message had to delivered as soon as possible; second, he was one of his trustees, someone who knew of his secrets and he did not either tell anyone where he was going, nor did he send anyone else to do this, but decided he would do it himself. Just as he was considering calling out, a Malaskian woman, carrying a large bucket with water and staggering under the weight, loomed up in sight. The Chancellor called to her, barely able to contain his impatience. She left the bucket aside and ran toward him.

After he told the Malaskian woman to inform the ruler that there was a messenger waiting for him, the Chancellor lingered before the gate, feeling so much on the edge he could just burst out of his skin, as though there was a clock in his mind that was ticking away. The Chancellor was a very nervous, anxiety-prone man, who wanted everything to be done well and properly, which was why he had problems with his nerves and had been advised by the Court physician to drink wine whenever his condition gets out of hand. At last, a figure in black appeared at the main entrance, and nodded at him before he could say anything.

"I have understood," said the Dark Lord under his hood. "Ride to the Court and arrange a meeting. I am coming."

"Yes, my Lord!" yelled the Chancellor with relief, turning his horse and spurring it down the hill. He was just too grateful that he did not need to enter the mansion and that his Lord did not scold him for disturbing him.

Everyone in the Court was on their feet since the messenger arrived anyway, but the Chancellor raised a great racket anyway. When the door leading to the underground passage that connected the mansion and the Court finally opened, the summoned party immediately got to their feet, including the messenger, who was a short, lean Droddian, obviously chosen to be a messenger because of his constitution. He was no ordinary messenger, though, the like of which the Chief used on a regular basis. He was his trustee and he had been there the day the Dark Lord shared his secret with them. The Chief thought ahead about this and had thus decided to send him to Gotan.

The Dark Lord was followed by his two apprentices, who lowered their hoods and glanced over the standing people with serious expressions on their faces.

"My Lord," said the Droddian, bowing very low to him, after what he was shown to sit, along with everyone else. The two Sith were just taking their places to the Dark Lord's right and left, not taking their glances off the Droddian, when he spoke again. "I bring an urgent message from the great Chief Growthak."

He reached inside his cloak, having disposed of his sword and axe at the entrance as a sign of friendly intentions, and pulled out a sealed scroll. He proffered it to the Dark Lord with his head bowed who took it from him without a word. He broke the seal and began to read. Everyone felt quite safe to stare now and the Chancellor noted that the two Sith were not trying to read over his shoulder but were staring at their hands, which they have laid upon the table, palms down. Now they knew, however, what this meant.

At long last, the Dark Lord looked up from his reading and glanced over the summoned people. His expression was completely devoid of any emotion, as always, and it was impossible to tell, even for his apprentices, whether the news were bad or good. Everyone waited for him to speak, aware of the tension in the air.

"It says," he said softly, passing the scroll to the female Sith, who started reading, "That he got information from King Dankaar, that there was a delegation of Jedi in their country. Dankaar threw them out unceremoniously. They had been asking a lot of questions before he learned of their presence, and from what he gathered, they wanted to know whether three Jedi had been seen in his land. They appeared to be searching."

Unable to resist, the two Sith smiled, exchanging glances. The male snorted and the female clapped a hand over her mouth, grinning broadly. The Dark Lord waved off and burst into laughter, with the two following his example. The three Sith laughed like mad for a while, their laughter echoing the vast hall, without no one really understanding what was so funny, before the Dark Lord had the courtesy to explain.

"You see, myself and my apprentices," he said, still chuckling, "have killed three Jedi only recently, as we were in Gnath. They were impudent enough to search for the Sith in the volcanic land – and I gave them what they were looking for."

Lord Tammutyen said something in Sith to him, at what the Dark Lord laughed again. The Chancellor thought they were acting terribly immature. The matter was very serious, because now the Jedi would be searching far and wide, with the three of them gone missing.

"They will not," said the Dark Lord, hearing his thoughts and waving off a contemptuous hand. "Because when they would not be able to find them, they would conclude they perished in Gnath. Which is, of course, partially true. But you see, the Jedi Order does not want to believe the existence of the Sith. And to keep on believing, they would do anything at all and believe anything. They have to believe it, because to admit the return of the Sith Order would mean acknowledging their own failure."

"But jokes aside," said the Dark Lord, straightening up. "You do not need to worry about this. I shall take care of it. You tell that to your Chief and tell him also, that I am very pleased with his work."

The Droddian bowed to him without a word.

"However, now that you are all here, and that we have a messenger present who can carry back my words to Gangar," the Dark Lord went on, "I shall tell you about the plan I concocted recently."

He withdrew a large map of the known lands of Horukaan from under the conference table and placed it on the table. The Droddian looked as scared to be here, as he seemed honoured, because in a way he was now acting as the Chief's representative.

"Now, you have all heard of Mongrap," said the Dark Lord, glancing around himself. Several people shook their heads, but the Droddian nodded.

"For those who do not know, suffice it to say that he is the leader of an underground movement in King Dankaar's kingdom. He controls the hide smuggling across the borders; he is responsible for the information leaks from Dankaar's little party of trustees; and he has people of trust on every high position. He is a very able, cunning man, who does not shrink before anything. But surprisingly, his ambition is not to overthrow the King. I daresay he quite enjoys his scheming and the power he has over the King and does not believe that to fight for the throne would be challenging. He prefers to remain in the shadows. But—"

He raised a finger and pointed at Dankaar's vast kingdom, stretching across the Third Continent. Surrounding it, there was a small Malaskian province and an Albinian kingdom situated in the marshes.

"That can change," the Dark Lord said, smiling. "I have written down my orders and you will deliver them to the Chief – he will know at once what and how to do it."

Then he turned to the members of his Court and nodded.

"But to explain – the Chief shall befriend himself with him. He shall gain Mongrap's trust. For now, that is all. But when the time comes, he shall tell him that there is a powerful friend who can help him get what he wants. And the Sith Order shall pull strings in the meantime. Let the Chief do as I tell him – and we shall meet and discuss the progress."

"Now, Korrugen," he addressed the general, who straightened up. "Tell us what you have accomplished in the land of Montague."

"Well, my Lord," started the general, clearing his throat. He did not have time to tell everyone about it yet, having just arrived back to Gotan. "The people living at the border are very poor and they are deeply dissatisfied with their situation. I do not believe they blame the king, because no one can blame anyone for the natural disasters."

"But, they are dissatisfied," said the Dark Lord, looking very pleased with the development. "Good. We shall help that a little. This is what I want you to do. Pick ten of your best men and ride to Montague again. You shall start adding more oil on the fire. Speak against the king; complain; give horrible life stories as examples. But do it subtly; be mindful of details that might give you away, and what is the most important, be careful not to get caught. I know I can entrust this task to you."

Korrugen looked flattered but also worried. Because the task itself seemed so very complicated, he started thinking about it as soon as he expressed his gratitude for the ruler's trust in him, saying that he would not fail him.

"So," said the Dark Lord, putting away the map of Horukaan – Tarralyanna laughed inwardly at the stripes which spread from the border of the land of Gnath due north, where it stood: 'unknown land'. "We must sow, so that we can reap. We shall deal with the Jedi along the way. However, I am certain if they knew of us, they would hasten to destroy us. However, three of them are gone – and it was very good exercise for my apprentices."

He looked to his right and left and the two smiled at him, nodding. Tarralyanna thought back of Larynthe, who was at the time sitting on her bed and pondering. Lady Tarralyanna read about the Jedi and she knew all one could learn about them from books and texts. But talking to one and observing one was fascinating. She kept running back to the Northern wing whenever she had a bit of free time and would ask the Jedi questions, trying to provoke her to see that uncontrolled anger in her eyes, to see her cry, to hear her thoughts filled with hatred, amplified by the Dark side which seemed to affect her on an unconscious level. Tarralyanna was exploring her emotions and noting how they were cumbersome to her, how they made her blind to the truth and how they were holding her back, feeling grateful for her own training and her own control. Tammutyen was fascinated with her as well, but not as much as she was. And despite of the initial outbursts of anger, the Jedi obviously learned to keep her thoughts to herself, as she could not be punished for them. She addressed the both of them with 'Lord' and 'Lady' and did what they told her, even if it was with a thousand terrible, unspoken curses. In fact, the angrier she got, the more interesting it was for the two Sith, and this simply disgusted her.

Tarralyanna was asking a lot of questions about her education at the Jedi Temple, and this, at least, seemed to be an agreeable topic – the Jedi liked to reminiscence and to share the particulars of her training with Tarralyanna. The Sith's genuine interest was an encouragement to Larynthe and sharing her experiences was interesting for her as well.

However, a time came for her to ask a question in return and by now she got so used to Tarralyanna and her questions, her strange exclamations and emotional coldness, her total objectification of everything, that she felt comfortable in at least asking her questions of her own.

"Would you be willing to tell me something about your own training, my Lady?" she asked her one morning.

The Sith put down her cigarette – Larynthe learned by now that she would come for her after her training, when she liked to drink coffee and smoke – and smiled in a seemingly friendly fashion at her. There was nothing really friendly about her, she learned; but her smile which appeared friendly was merely telling Larynthe that she was in a good mood, 'functional and congruent', as the slender Sith called it. Larynthe could not comprehend what she meant by this for the life of her and left it at that.

"You may ask me questions, but I shall see which of them I shall answer," she said.

"Very well," said Larynthe, taking this as a yes, and plunging on. She thought long and hard about this and made a list in her mind of all the things she wanted to know, if she ever got the chance to ask her and if she would answer. The chance for this opened on this beautiful morning, when the Sith seemed to be very pleased with herself.

"How have you found your master, and asked him to be taught?" she asked first.

"My Master found _me_," said Lady Tarralyanna, smiling mysteriously. "And brought me to the Temple to be trained."

"And was this what you wanted? My Lady?" asked Larynthe, surprised with her answer.

"I did not know what I wanted, I was too small, you see," said Tarralyanna, laughing. "I was only three."

"So you once used to be a child, then," said Larynthe, a picture of a small child dressed in black with black and violet hair, laughing while stomping down an anthill, enjoying the feeling of destruction flashing through her mind. "Did he raise you?"

"He appointed a nanny to me, who was taking care of me. He did not have anything to do with my upbringing and I spent most of my time alone, or with my brother. As for his teaching, for starters he gave me his permission to roam around the Temple to get an idea how the Dark side feels like," said Tarralyanna, smoking thoughtfully. "When I was five, he started actually training me."

"He decided on my future weapon and made me a toy one," said Tarralyanna, remembering this with a smile on her face – she was really enjoying this, to actually be able to retell all of this to someone who did not know all of the particulars of it, like her brother did, who had been there to see her ups and downs. "He started his teaching by instructing me how to use it; to feel its balance and how to master its rotational movement, until it became an extension of my own hands. It was then I was ordered to make a real weapon."

"Ah," said Larynthe, seeing parallels with the Jedi training. "So you had to make it yourself like I did. But why Saragon, though? Your brother has a completely different weapon."

"It is the right weapon for me, given my constitution and talents," said Tarralyanna, shrugging. "Master observed us for a long time before he decided on the perfect weapon for each of us."

She was thinking, of course, about his counsels with his own master and with the Dark side itself. The actual Ceremony of Birth had taken place when Tarralyanna was five, as soon as she got her toy Saragon and was taught how to feel the Dark side, having succeeded in summoning it for a few times. It was uncontrolled but it was a start.

"So, each Sith wields a different weapon?" asked Larynthe.

"Correct," said Tarralyanna, nodding. "For not every weapon is made for everyone, you know. I might be able to wield Tammutyen's Ptah after a few years of hard training, but I would never be as good with it as I am with my Saragon, or the other way round. It is a pity it is not the same way with the Jedi. It would be very interesting to find out which your weapon of choice would be."

"I made my Jalá sword long and thin," said Larynthe, thinking about the choice of weaponry and thinking whether she would indeed be far better at using something else than a Jalá sword. "So it suited me."

"Hm," mused the Sith, leaning aback and watching Larynthe with her eyes a little narrowed, as though measuring her up. "From what I can see, I would say that you would be far better off with Tammutyen's Ptah. Or a long sword resembling it. But, it is impossible to say, because your body is hidden."

"Hidden?" asked Larynthe, glancing over herself. "What do you mean? Can you not see it well enough?"

"Hidden, meaning, hidden under flesh," said Tarralyanna, nodding at her belly, which was showing underneath the hard cloth. "There is a lot of superfluous flesh adhering to your body. Only if you get rid of it, one can see your true constitution."

Larynthe went scarlet, staring at her – was she saying she was fat?

"Yes," the Sith answered her thoughts calmly, crossing her hands on her chest. "This is what we call 'superfluous and useless volume'. Meaning, it is of no use to you, and it is only cumbersome. Of course, it might not be possible for someone of your age to actually get rid of it completely and shape your body by training, if you have not been doing it for as long as Tammutyen and I have, since we were five – but it might be possible to some extent."

"So your Master starved you so that you could end up looking like this?" asked Larynthe, glancing unawares over her flat front. It is so unnatural, she thought, for a female not to have breasts, and the Sith had absolutely none. The Sith laughed.

"He proscribed the right diet for me," she said. "The one that suits my anatomy and which would help me develop my physical capabilities to their full potential. There were times I yearned for other things, yes, but I was a child. I was to adhere to my list of allowed nutrients and was punished severely for any attempt of stealing food from the kitchen or from my brother's plate, for that matter. But I was never hungry, if that is what you think. My body is simply different."

"That is horrible," said Larynthe with feeling.

"Horrible?" echoed the Sith, lifting her eyebrows. "I was a child. Children do not understand such things and they do not know what is good for them. That is why they have a master to guide them and advise them. And yes, punish them when they cross the line. Is that not why the Jedi have masters?"

"Punish how?" asked Larynthe, ignoring her question.

"I have read that the Jedi do not practice this," said Tarralyanna, shaking her head. "Honestly, I cannot understand how they maintain discipline and order. One has to be very firm with children."

"No, it is true, my master never punished me," said Larynthe. "But yelling was bad enough."

"That can be bad enough, true, coming from the Dark Lord," said Tarralyanna, remembering the chill travelling down her spine every time he raised his voice. "Well, as regards punishments, whips are his favourite. He always carries one with him." Larynthe was staring at her with her mouth half-open, not believing her ears. "Then daggers. Oh, yes, those small daggers without the real hilt, made for throwing, you know? He used to throw those at Tammutyen a lot. Then, throttling with the Dark side – he used this on me very often. When we learned how to bear up with pain, he took another approach."

"Did you not want to run away?" asked Larynthe with tears in her eyes, what the Sith observed with great interest, leaning aside as though she thought she had seen wrong. "He was horrible to you!"

"Jedi Larynthe, are you crying again?" asked Tarralyanna, staring at her. She waved an impatient hand. "Explain why."

"Your experience is deeply disturbing," said Larynthe, angry with herself and wiping off her tears quickly. "I never imagined someone could be so cruel."

"There can be no advancement without pain and torment," said Tarralyanna, overwhelmed with interest. "And surely no one can expect to learn everything at once. It is supposed to be hard and one is supposed to crumble down every now and then. That only means one has crossed a certain limit and has advanced."

"Is that what you think?" asked Larynthe.

"That is the way of the Sith," said Tarralyanna proudly, lifting up her chin. "To inflict pain, we must first get to know it on our skin. Only when we master it, when we rise above it, we are ready to inflict pain to others. For we command it and understand it completely. Does this not make sense to you, Jedi Larynthe?"

"Yes, but it sounds dreadfully cruel and horrible. And I do not believe anyone human could ever be able to do it," she answered, staring at the Sith. She was wearing a black dress as always, which followed the lines of her body. She thought again about her hint that she was fat. Larynthe never thought she was fat, but compared to her, she probably was.

"The path to self-mastery is paved with the bones of cowards," said the Sith, grinning, and lighting up another cigarette. "But here is a question for you. When do Jedi reach the stage of self-mastery?"

"I am uncertain what you mean by the term, my Lady," said Larynthe, taking a sip of her own coffee. The Sith graciously offered her coffee and as reluctant as Larynthe was to accept it in the beginning, she kind of liked it. It was horribly strong, she concluded. But she learned not to drink too much of it, and as she liked coffee, she was actually grateful for it.

"You do not know what self-mastery is?" asked Tarralyanna, staring at her in disbelief. "Heart of Rage! Well, he who is a master of himself, according to the definition of the ancient Sith, is a person who is above all emotions. He can feel and he does feel; but he does not allow to be influenced by his emotions. He admits their existence and he accepts they are a part of him, but he keeps them under control and does not allow them to influence either his work in the Dark side or cloud his judgement. They are there, but this person has mastered them. The Sith serves the Dark side with the whole of his being and all else pales in comparison to his work and the power of Darkness. This is why we are given new names at the Coming – because we cease to be who we were."

"The Coming?" asked Larynthe, feeling slightly light-headed.

"The Ceremony of the Coming, the symbolical death," said Tarralyanna, remembering hers, but deciding not to share the particulars of this experience with the Jedi. It was, after all, a very intimate experience. "The greatest part of our training is done by then and we lay our oath before the Dark side that we would serve it forever. Then, a situation is simulated in which one has to die – and the Dark side watches. If the candidate lays down his life readily, if he shows no fear before death, then a name in the Dark side is awarded to him, which designates our purpose, who we really are, and how we are to serve the Darkness further on."

"A situation is simulated?" asked Larynthe, going white. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I do not want to share my own experience," said Tarralyanna, waving a hand. "But up to the Ceremony of Coming a Sith grows and becomes more powerful. He conquers and masters his fears. However, at the Ceremony of Coming he faces the ultimate fear – the fear of death. For the sake of an example, a Sith master might choose to entomb his apprentice in a room full of venomous serpents. Of course, the Dark side, sensing there is a test in process, would aid by implanting many false sensations and ideas into the mind of the candidate. His master tells him that he is unworthy of becoming a Sith knight and that he wants him to die. Then the Sith, a true Sith, would offer his hand to the serpents, without any fear or self-pity and die in meditation, with the Dark side. If he does this, he passed the test. He has proved his allegiance to his master, to the Order and to the Dark side itself and shown courage and loyalty, mastery of body and mind. He can be knighted."

Larynthe sat with her hand over her mouth, staring at the Sith, who was talking about this very calmly, but obviously with a definite note of melancholy in her voice – she was reminiscing. One moment she was dying, giving in to the Dark side; and the next her Master was standing before her, healing her and nodding at her, telling her that she passed her test. Being alive never seemed less important.

"Horrible!" squeaked Larynthe, shaking her head.

"Why horrible?" asked the Sith in disbelief. "How else could Darkness prove we have mastered flesh and blood and that we are ready to truly execute its will on Horukaan? We know what is going to happen, of course, that it is going to be something like this, but it takes one by surprise. The Dark side manipulates us and makes us believe that we are truly going to die. I am curious – why do you find it horrible, Jedi Larynthe?"

"Serving the Force is one thing," said Larynthe, shaking her head. "But such perverse sacrifices is something quite different. I do not believe that one has to _die_ to prove himself."

"No?" asked Tarralyanna, surprised. "Well, I suppose one would not need to, if one wanted to remain at the same stage for the rest of his life. But you know, the Force does not tolerate status quo. It desires to have followers, to have servants who would carry out its will. Of course, I am speaking of the Dark side, because I have no idea how it works with the light side, except for the things I learned from books. For, you see, to command the Dark side, one needs more than just good will. Something as powerful as the Dark side needs to be commanded without a grain of fear or doubt and one has to be perfectly clear about what one wants, not thinking about anything else, one's mind completely focused on one's task. The Dark side despises weakness and stupidity; and as soon as it senses that the servant is weak, it turns back upon him. Tammutyen and I have felt it too many times during our training to ever underestimate it."

"Why serve it, then?" asked Larynthe. "Why not serve the light side? Things are not as complicated and as horrible with the light side."

"No, probably not," said Tarralyanna, smiling her mysterious smile. "But the Dark side…" She sighed, looking up to the skies. "It is beautiful and terrible at the same time. Once I learned how to control it, I saw it as something mighty, beautiful, everlasting, magnificent; an ancient force, rising from the deep. Nothing can stand in its way, not even the light side."

"I find that hard to believe," Larynthe snorted. "Forgive me, my Lady, but I do."

"Oh?" asked Tarralyanna, eyeing her with greatest interest yet. "You have seen my Force Lighting, when we duelled, have you not? I am proud of what I learned, though it is nothing compared to the Force Lightning of my Master's. But I am still learning. Well? Can one do that with the light side?"

"The silver streaks, is that what you mean?" asked Larynthe, remembering. "You call that Force lightning?"

"That was the physical manifestation of the power of the Dark side," said Tarralyanna happily, taking another sip of her coffee – Larynthe wondered how much of that stuff she could drink and not faint. "Normally, a Jedi or a common person sensitive to the Force could feel the Dark side. But in this way one can see it. And when performed correctly… it is power beyond my dreams. My point is – you cannot do that with the light side, to wield and unleash such power."

"You know what, my pet Jedi," said Tarralyanna some time later. "I shall ask Master for permission to bring you to one of our trainings. I daresay Tammutyen shall be thrilled – he could try out his battle tactics with you, I know he keeps asking you about it. It is an obsession of his, you see."

"I am sure it is," said Larynthe under her breath, thinking back of her Waak.

"You are still not over it, are you?" asked Tarralyanna. She sighed. "One day, you shall learn, perhaps. But now at least I understand why you believe that death is the worst thing that can happen to someone. Because you have not seen or felt anything worse and because you do not understand it. You have no idea whatsoever, what death really is."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Larynthe woke up the following morning to find her breakfast table empty. She stretched and yawned. Perhaps the Malaskians have forgotten about her food. She could not expect the Sith to come for her any time soon and she watched the sunrise through her window, thinking about their last conversation. She learned so much about the Sith to give her a permanent headache and to be confused for the rest of her life. She understood none of it. She could not understand how one could be so cruel, how one could live without love and emotions, how one could be so emotionally cold, that one would be ready to torture her own brother because she believed it was the will of the Dark side. But, if she was not human, then perhaps this was something natural for her. However, a statement of hers left one little gap in the whole story – she admitted she cared for her brother.

The Malaskian woman, who brought her breakfast every morning, now came in, and Larynthe looked up, expecting to see her carrying food trays. But she was not carrying food – she was carrying a pile of clothes and she laid it down upon the table, her lip trembling.

"Lady Tarralyanna sends you this," she said quietly. "And she said I should take you to the training hall after you get dressed."

"What about breakfast, Peetah?" asked Larynthe.

"No breakfast," she said, shaking her head. "She did not say anything about that."

"Figures," said Larynthe, reaching out for the bundle and gasping when she saw what it was. It was an exact replica of her old Jedi robe and she glanced over it with her eyes wide, uncertain how this made her feel. Happy, she thought. Or was she happy? I spend too much time with that Sith, she thought angrily – all that analysing is getting under my skin.

"She sent me this?" she whispered, glancing over the brown cloak. The hard material, the wide sleeves – everything was as she remembered it.

"Yes, she ordered me to make a few," said Peetah, giving a quick smile at the Jedi's look of astonishment, pleased that she liked it. "I hope I have managed to make something similar to your old clothes."

"They look _exactly_ like my old Jedi robes," said Larynthe, glowing and grinning at the Malaskian who flushed, scoffing the floor with her foot in an embarrassed sort of way – she probably never gets praised by the Sith, Larynthe thought. She looked a little impatient, though. Larynthe thought that they just might want to punish her for being late and quickly started taking her clothes off.

Walking behind her and wearing the brown Jedi cloak, Larynthe felt strange. She _was_ a Jedi – why would it feel strange? And yet, a part of her died in Gnath as Waak was murdered, and she could not wear the Jedi robes as she once used to, with the same pride, with the same feeling of belonging. Everything changed – including her trust in the Force, as reluctant as she was to admit it to herself. It felt as though this was not her, as though a part of her died together with Waak and left her with this, this doubtful, sceptical, bitter, anger-prone creature that she was now. It has nothing to do with the Dark side, she decided firmly, as she followed the Malaskian down to the quadratic hall. Larynthe thought back of her duel with the Sith, her anger and her use of the Dark side. Or was that the Dark side she used? She was not certain anymore.

Peetah left her standing in front of a tall door and retreated with a quick bow, clearly not wishing to be in the vicinity of the two Sith. Larynthe slowly pushed the door open, and peered inside. Behind the door was a vast, high-ceilinged hall, completely built in black marble. The polished floor reflected one figure standing in the middle, adjusting the chain on her Saragon, completely immersed in her task. It took Larynthe some time to locate the other Sith, who was hanging upside down from a rope and was looking in her direction.

"Your pet is here," he said in a deep growl, pointing. Tarralyanna nodded, still immersed in her task and looked around only when she was done with it.

"It is for the best that you sit down behind the door, over there," she said, pointing. "Master sits on that chair when he is here, but we never know when he is coming. However, he gave me his permission to bring you here."

"All right," said Larynthe, closing the door behind her and heading to sit where she was shown. "Thank you for the robes, my Lady," she added, glancing over the male Sith, who was now lifting the upper part of his body toward his feet with apparent ease, the rope quivering as he did so.

Larynthe glanced around the hall. Apart from that rope, there were various things in the hall, despite of her initial impression of vast emptiness. A half a dozen swords hung on the wall on the opposite side. There was something that resembled a large cushion placed underneath the rope and Larynthe imagined it must be there to prevent a bad fall. Behind it were two vertical stands which supported a horizontal bar. She had no idea what that might be used for. Underneath the swords was a box containing small daggers. Then came an assortment of axes of various sizes, a pile of serrated discs which were obviously used for throwing and a few bows, together with a few quivers.

Tarralyanna was doing the exact same exercises with the Saragon as Larynthe had seen her do in the valley of Jin. And although Larynthe could not remember the particulars, she could remember certain moves that made an impression on her, either good or bad. Again the two Sith swapped places when they were done with the exercises. As soon as she would get the chance, Larynthe decided to ask them what was the purpose of these exercises.

"Jedi Larynthe," said Tammutyen in his deep growl when the two were done and sat down on the floor to stretch. "Come here."

Larynthe got to her feet with a sense of foreboding. Her heart hammering in her chest, she approached him, glancing over the double-bladed sword which he was now carefully putting back into its scabbard. She was in the Sith training hall and she knew very well how many Jedi would wish they could be here, to see it. She looked up at the formidable Sith, who was beaming at her as he put away his Ptah.

"Here," he said, pulling something from a pile, which comprised of towels, his shirt drenched in sweat and gloves he had just taken off. He threw the object at her and she caught it in the last moment. She turned it over. It was a short, light dagger. She looked up in surprise, panic rising within her. The Sith was staring at her with a mixture of triumph and excitement, spinning a similar dagger in his hand as though it was a toy. She swallowed.

"No Force," he said seriously, brandishing the dagger. "I only desire to see your movements up close."

"He had been waiting for this ever since you came," said Tarralyanna with a laugh, lifting herself up and walking away. "Never fear, he will not harm you. Tammutyen? Not my pet."

Larynthe was very surprised but grateful for her warning, for she was certain that the this beast would listen to her and honour her wishes. However, the maniacal glint he had in his eyes was not at all encouraging.

"Come on," he said, barely holding back his impatience, beckoning to Larynthe.

She pursed her lips and took her cloak off, spinning the dagger in her hand a little so that she could get the feeling for it and got into combat position. The expression that appeared on the Sith's face as she did so assured Larynthe that he was a battle fanatic. She did not really care whether he used the Force or not, because it mattered very little – she knew she would be defeated.

Larynthe suddenly raised the dagger and charged at the Sith, swinging wildly with it, putting her hopes in the element of surprise. As she did so, she felt a foot on her stomach which came out of the blue and was pushed backwards. She fell and rolled over. She heard Lady Tarralyanna give a little laugh. There, she thought; she warns him not to harm me, indicating she likes me around, and now she is laughing.

"You are leaving a gap in the lower part of your body," said the monumental Sith in a deep voice, gesturing. "And you give me a chance to hit you. I used my foot because they my legs are far stronger than my hands."

"So what should I do?" asked Larynthe, enraged, getting to her feet. She did not believe he was actually pointing out her mistakes to her. She just believed she would be kicked around a little and that that would be it, and she asked this question without expecting an answer.

"For starters, be aware of it," he said, nodding seriously at her. "And keep your left hand low," he indicated the level of his waist, holding up his own left hand with palm turned downwards. "So that you would be ready to block me. To push my leg even a little would do the trick."

"All right," said Larynthe, getting back into position. The Sith, surprisingly, repeated the same movement, and Larynthe pushed his leg away gently this time.

"You will not harm me," he laughed, staring at her. "Just push. Use your anger and hatred – you have plenty of both." Lady Tarralyanna laughed again and jumped to seize the horizontal bar with her both hands. She spun around it a few times and then hoisted herself up with ease. She lifted one hand and then the other, trying out her balance.

Larynthe's next attempt was much better and she felt the Sith's leg under her palm as she slapped it hard. A moment later, startled and shocked with the coldness of his skin, she yelped as though she got burned, staring at him with eyes wide in horror and glancing down on her palm, as though wondering whether it was still whole.

"What?" he asked, spreading his arms. "That was a lot better."

"She touched you, Tammutyen," said Tarralyanna in a muffled voice. She was hanging upside down with her legs entwined around the metal bar. The male Sith sighed.

"Well, I _am_ a Sith, am I?" he said, grinning at Larynthe. "We are cold. There is nothing strange about that. You, on the other hand, feel soft and warm, like one of Tarralyanna's fruit puddings."

The both of them laughed and there was a creak of the metallic bar as Tarralyanna leapt down from it. Larynthe tried to compose herself, to forget the awful corpse-like feeling she got when she touched him. His body felt as though it was made out of stone, hard and taut, but it was as cold as stone as well. She shuddered.

"This time, you allowed me the access to your feet," he said after he pulled her leg and made her lose her balance, caught her round the middle and swung with her toward the floor so fast Larynthe felt dizzy. He poised her back on her feet. She could still feel the cold, strong grip of his paws on her waist, even though he distanced himself away from her.

"What do I do with that?" she asked, shaking her head.

"You need to be firm on your feet," he said, bouncing up and down, with her watching him doubtfully. "So that when I pull your foot again, you could regain your balance by jumping on your other foot. See? Try it. Come on."

She approached him reluctantly and hooked her foot around his slowly, pulling it toward herself. She heard him snort.

"You are not trying hard enough," he said, shaking his head. "Peetah would pull much harder. Now come on, unleash that anger of yours!"

"I am not you!" said Larynthe in a loud voice, her chest heaving. "I cannot do it like that!"

"Why not?" asked Tarralyanna, approaching Larynthe from behind, wiping her face with a towel and staring at her in surprise. "You are angry every day, I know that. Would it not be a relief to release it, even a bit of it?"

"I cannot do it," whispered Larynthe, feeling as though her worst fears came thrashing down upon her, depriving her of air. She tried to regain her emotional balance, to fight in order to be free of the horrible shackles on her wrists, but she failed. She felt like screaming in despair and was staring at her feet, trying to avoid Tammutyen's glance.

"Now you are angry!" said Tammutyen, pointing at her. "I can feel it, so do not even try to deny it! Why do you not use it?"

"I think you will find," said a voice coming the doorway, at what the two Sith bound up as though burned and dropped to their knees, with Larynthe following, not knowing what else to do, "that she is afraid of her anger."

The Dark Lord made a few paces forward and then approached Larynthe, who was shivering on the floor.

"Despite of all," he said softly, "you have been obedient. Well, well, I am very surprised. My apprentices find you a very amusing company to be in and their work began to flourish with you around. Perhaps there is some use for you after all."

Larynthe stared at the feet of the Dark Lord and her stomach clenched.

"Lady Tarralyanna," the Dark Lord addressed the female Sith. "You shall bring her to me at fourth Luth hour. I want to speak to her."

"Yes, my Master," the female Sith answered.

Larynthe noted her voice changed when she spoke to the Dark Lord and this puzzled her a little. Was she afraid of him? Were the Sith not supposed to be fearless? How very odd, Larynthe thought. She had never been afraid of her own master because there was no reason for it. But she was afraid of other things. As the footsteps died away, Larynthe got back on her feet, wondering what the Dark Lord of the Sith wanted to talk to her about.


	24. Chapter 23 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Guest review: I'm really not into all that high-tech stuff and I wanted to finally write a story in which being a Sith is _right, _never mind the background_._ The story is already finished, but I've never really edited it, so I still need to reread every chapter.

Yay! I know you guys are reading, but it's nice to know you're really there. The following chapter speaks about my favourite topic – fall of a Jedi. :) :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXIII – The Fall

The sun of Luth began to paint the vault of violet with a shy orange shade, as there was a thunder of hooves under a horse galloping with full speed toward the fortress of Gangar at the foot of the mountain range. Dust rose around the rider and the hide he wore instead of a cloak whipped around him as he rode leaning forward, thus giving his horse more freedom of movement. Foam gushed out of the horse's mouth, but the rider was mercilessly pushing it onward, using his short bear-hide whip. The guards leaning over the walls of the fortress spotted him as soon as he broke out of the scanty shrubbery beyond the horizon and darted down the slope, riding straight for the fortress. They could not make out the rider's face, but the seal of the Chief's Seniors glistening on the horse's chest was quite enough for them. They jumped and ran to the enormous pulleys, shouting at each other.

"Open the gate!" roared a squat Droddian, waving an axe threateningly through the air, baring his teeth at the ten people who ran to the capstan and began pushing with roars. The gate was opened right on time to allow the rider to streak past them, leaving off clouds of dirt behind him, galloping straight for the Chief's mansion. They stared after him, not knowing what to think.

"Chief," panted the messenger, brushing off filth from his face, at the sight of his emperor who was standing deep in talk with a few of his Seniors in the hall of the Gangar Mansion. The Chief looked round at him, and beckoned him forward, realising that he had just arrived from Gotan with news. It was a hard, ten-day ride entailing little sleep and scanty meals he would eat in saddle, but he managed it. He looked exhausted but very excited, pulling out a scroll from his hide and handing it to his emperor with a dramatic salute. He is the best rider among my trustees, thought Growthak with an expression of content on his swarthy face as he looked away from him, balancing the scroll in his hands. No one else could ride from Gotan to Gangar in mere ten days.

"Great Chief," said the small messenger, his head reaching the Chief's chest. "The ruler of Gotan sends you his approval concerning the way you handled the situation and says he was very pleased with your work."

The Chief halted where he was, staring at him and listening, holding the still unopened scroll in his hands. Several Seniors stood behind the throne, listening with serious looks on their faces. "He also said that himself and his… assistants… no, his…"

"Apprentices?" interjected the Chief quietly.

"Yes, apprentices," the messenger went on, puffing. "That they killed three Jedi some time ago and he believed that these are the three that the Jedi Order is looking for. However, he says that you should not worry about this. He sends you new orders, my Chief."

He nodded at the scroll in the Chief's hands, which he began to unroll slowly as he sat down on his throne, lost in thought. The Seniors did not dare to speak to each other while their Chief was reading, for he had a nasty custom of throwing daggers at all those who interrupted him in something or were disrespectful, and he was known as an excellent knife thrower, able to do it blindfolded. Thus they contented themselves with staring at his back, trying not to move, eyeing his belt where he had three long daggers tucked in to stand at ready. The brow of the Chief furrowed more and more with every line he read, until at last he put down the letter and pursed his lips, nodding gravely to himself.

"I need to think about this," he shot over his back, giving the parchment a wave and departing in the direction of his chambers. "You have done your task very well."

He pointed at the messenger, who bowed to him and watched his Chief disappear behind the corner, immersed in thought. As soon as he disappeared from view, the Seniors jumped toward the messenger, lavishing him with questions. As quietly as he could, he described to them what happened, what he heard, and what were the new orders given to their Chief.

"I do not think all of this will end well," one said quietly to the others, as they were later sitting at the dining table and drinking wine, bursting with the desire to talk it all out. "This means that our Chief is at his mercy."

"You have been there, you saw what happened," said the messenger, dirt smeared over his face, his hair tangled by the wind, but who was now happily eating lunch that seemed to be bigger than he was. "What could he do? The only option was to accept the alliance."

"I have a diary of one of my relatives who lived in the Second Age, during the Great War," said a Droddian across him. "This… this Sith was said to be able to kill hundreds alone, to wield fire and to throttle with his thoughts. And if he taught him, then it makes him just as powerful, in my opinion."

"We are far better off in his shadow," said another one, nodding. "Better choose sides now, and live in the shadow of the powerful."

"The Droddian race never really benefited from the alliance with the Sith," said one quietly, tossing away a bone into a bowl before him. "What about the bloodshed in Iuthsowen? Hundreds of thousands were slaughtered."

"It was a hard time," said the messenger wisely, with his mouth full. "But the Chief had been presented with a choice, whether to accept an alliance or not. And I, too, believe that our Chief had chosen well."

"The ruler of Gotan used to be his good friend," whispered one, leaning forward with a half-eaten wing of a bird in his hand, flesh hanging off the bone. "Of course he would stand by him."

"I do not believe he is so short-sighted," growled the Droddian sitting beside him. "Nor a coward."

"I did not say that," said the Droddian who spoke first, baring his teeth at the orator, clearly daring him to accuse him of speaking against the Chief. "Do you think he would have stood by a Sith if he was a complete stranger?"

"Yes," said the messenger, shrugging. The first Droddian snorted in disbelief. "Look, if it comes to war, we would need to choose a side anyway. So better do it now, while we can still earn a good position and prove ourselves."

"We are Droddians," said the one who spoke before the messenger did, now positively getting angry. "We do not need to prove ourselves to anyone! I say this would-be war should have been left to those who have stirred it up."

Everyone got to their feet as they heard their Chief come in and lean against the doorway with a very grave look on his face.

"Chief," said one, bowing to him. "Should we summon everyone?"

"Yes," said the Chief thoughtfully, waving a hand. "Yes, tell them to come at once."

He sat down, interlacing his fingers on the table, still lost in thought. At long last, he leaned aback with a sigh and glanced over the expectant faces that surrounded him.

"I have made my decision of how this is going to be done," he said.

He was considered to be the wisest ruler of Ganger that ever lived and he was respected, in the light of which certain strange customs and decisions of his have been overlooked and accepted. Though, not by all. The Chief knew this very well and thus he ruled with a firm hand, smothering any bit of resistance that appeared. His people respected his as a ruler and as a warrior, but at the same time they feared him. And so it was well.

He sat drinking his wine and spoke to the messenger about Gotan and its ruler in general, until the rest of his council arrived and seated itself quietly around the table. When they have all filed in and the doors were closed, the Chief looked round from his small talk with the messenger, and nodded at all of them.

"The ruler of Gotan desires to have Mongrap as his trustee," he said loudly. The members of the Council exchanged glances, but the Chief went on, in a slightly louder voice:

"Which is why I want twenty able men to sail to Dankaar's kingdom and start putting this plan into action. We need to help Mongrap and thus earn his trust."

"Help him?" said the Droddian who had been against the alliance in the first place. "How?"

"Offer him smuggled goods," said the Chief. "I have thought about that. We shall pack a small shipment of the Rykk spice – and you shall smuggle it on the Third Continent."

At that, there was an explosion of outraged protests. The Rykk spice was native to Gangar and anyone who wanted even a spoonful had to buy it at a very high price, because the Droddians of Gangar did not export it as a rule and kept the most of it to themselves. They were very possessive of their treasures and thus the Rykk spice was fairly unknown on Horukaan. The Chief glanced over his Seniors wearing a mask-alike expression. Suddenly, however, he slammed a fist against the table so hard that the messenger's goblet keeled over with a rattle and his own sprang up high in the air, rolling over across the table. They stared at him.

"ENOUGH!" he roared in a voice that echoed the hall, his face contorted in anger, his hand twitching toward his belt as he sprang up. "WHAT are you, cackling HENS? Are you noble warriors of Gangar, or old hags who cannot keep their mouth shut?"

Everyone fell silent now and stared back at him, wondering what he was going to do. He looked so angry he could just grab the nearest man and snap his neck in half. His muscular arms were trembling as though itching to do something of the sort, too. He clenched his fists a few times, so hard that his bones gave audible cracks. He made a few furious paces down the aisle, and then glanced over them, as though daring someone to say something, his eyes burning with anger. Everyone kept their glances downwards.

"I will not justify myself before you and explain why I have decided to stand by the Sith Lord," he roared on, his voice rife with fury. "It is done; the Land of Gangar has chosen its side. We stand by him, in war, in peace. And if I hear one more muttered word, hear one more mutinous whisper, I shall personally disembowel with my bare hands whoever dares to counter me!"

After his threat, he took a deep breath and made a few more paces down the aisle, his hands on his back.

"Thus his orders are to be executed and you will all listen carefully to mine, because I am repeating them only once."

oooooooooooooooooo

Across Horukaan, in the Sith temple, sat the Dark Lord in a chamber on the ground floor, drinking wine from a chalice and staring at the fire. A white-faced and barely-breathing Larynthe sat on a small tripod facing him, staring at her feet.

"Undoubtedly you have done all you could to try to earn yourself a bit of freedom," said the Dark Lord quietly, not looking at her, but rubbing his thumb and forefinger in his characteristic fashion.

He looked at her, who quickly bowed her glance.

"You must understand that no such things as compassion or sympathy exist for a Sith," he said softly, in a tone not matching his words. "If my apprentices were ordered to kill, they would rather die themselves, than fail. I have ordered Lady Tarralyanna to spare your life after sending her to kill you and have thus took her reward from her – and I have not done so without a reason. She had been having visions about you, for months prior to your encounter. Has she told you that?"

Larynthe shook her head, her mind spinning. She had been having visions about her, too. Why? Was there some sort of a strange connection between the two? She could not see it for the life of her.

"I have not warned her not to speak about it," said the Dark Lord, sounding a little amused. "But she did it nevertheless. I have ordered her to spare your life because I believe there is something intriguing about you. There is a reason why you attract the Dark side. And I think we need to listen to what it has to say. You may speak now, if you have something to say to me."

Larynthe's throat went dry and for a moment she could not bring herself to speak, whereas the Dark Lord patiently waited, sipping his wine. But when she did, she spoke to her feet, not looking up.

"It began when master Waak-Lin and I left the Jedi Temple," she said in a trembling voice. "And I do not know what it means. I have been angry before; but never before have I attracted the Dark side. My master would have told me, I am certain."

The Dark Lord watched her for a few more moments before speaking again.

"Which is why it makes matters so very interesting," he said. Then he leaned aback a little and glanced over Larynthe.

"You have kept your promise, Jedi Larynthe," he said, addressing her in the same way the two Sith addressed her, as though wishing to emphasise that she was a Jedi. "And the Dark Lord of the Sith shall keep to his."

He raised a hand and Larynthe felt the chilly hand of the Dark side extend to her. She closed her eyes nervously. The shackles she wore on her wrists grew very hot, until she felt them slide off and fall to the floor with two loud clanks. She opened her eyes and stared at her hands. There were bloody marks all around her wrists, but apart from that, her hands seemed to be quite all right. She looked up to the hooded person seated across the room, who was watching her in silence, pressing the tips of his fingers together.

"I always keep to my word," he said, answering her thoughts. "And I know you will not try reaching out to the Jedi Order."

"How?" she asked, dumbfounded, staring at him, forgetting to address him with 'my Lord'. But, oddly, it so seemed that the Dark Lord did not insist on this, as did his apprentices.

"You simply will not," he answered with a mysterious smile on his face. "There, now you can assist my apprentices during their trainings. I daresay Lord Tammutyen will be beside himself with happiness. But, before I send you off, I want you to do something. Summon the Force. In front of me. Do your best, Jedi Larynthe."

Larynthe took a deep breath and opened herself to the Force as she once used to. She felt a little strange, as though she was groggy and she shook her head. Perhaps she had gotten rusty after all that time she could not feel the Force? She tried again, all the while aware of the crackling of the fire in the fireplace and the stare of the Dark Lord upon her. What was wrong with her? Had she forgotten how to open herself to the Force? When she was small, she had been told by the Jedi that she was talented and that the Force was strong with her. It must be all that Dark side hovering around, she thought angrily. Panic began to rise within her as it became apparent she simply could not do it. Perhaps it was impossible to use the light side while in the Sith Temple? If so, why did the Dark Lord suggest it in the first place? She reached out desperately for the glowing source of strength and light, for the light side as she remembered it. But as she finally managed to break through her stupor and annoyance, the only answer she got was a gush of destructiveness, charging at her and enveloping her. She withdrew her senses at once, her heart hammering against her ribs. Was that... the Dark side?

No Force. She could not feel the light side, it was gone. The feeling of comfort and peacefulness was gone. She felt like choking, like jumping out of her own skin, as though she was constipated or was trying to scream without using her voice. Trembling, she looked up to the Dark Lord, whose thin, cruel lips were stretched into a smile.

"What… what have you done to me?" she whispered, her heart going cold.

"I have done absolutely nothing," the Dark Lord waved a careless hand. "And I can assure you, neither have my apprentices. You cannot feel the light side?"

Larynthe nodded, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. She could not understand it. The only possibility was that he did something to her while she slept. That would make sense. In this way she would not be able to contact anyone ever again. But… she could feel the Dark side. The full meaning of this flashed across her weary brain and all hopes that she could perhaps make it all right again, that she would be able to use the light side if she left the Sith Temple, burst with an almighty boom in her head. The Sith did not have to do anything to her, because she already did it to herself. She decided to use the Dark side herself, while she was duelling Lady Tarralyanna and it was her own fault. There was no turning back now and the light side would never have her back. She was lost.

The Dark Lord laughed at her reaction.

"Like I said, the Dark side is very intrigued by you," he said, inclining his head. "And the first chance it got, it claimed you. As soon as you willingly reached out for it, it accepted your decision. Furthermore, you are at the Sith Temple and the Dark side allowed you to come inside, which means that it considers you at least a Sith in making."

"No!" whispered Larynthe in a hollow, desperate voice, shaking her head and staring at the hooded figure before her. The sight of the Dark Lord went blurry and she realised that the strange hissing noise, swirling around her, was in fact the Dark side. She caught her head with her hands and let out a desperate howl. At that moment, she felt as though she had gone quite insane. Her very worst nightmares had come true; and try as she could, she could not sense the light side of the Force. All of her jeers at the Sith, all of her hatred went crashing down as she realised she became the very thing she despised, hated and never wanted to be, always swore she would never be, despite of the teasing of the Dark side while she was wandering through the volcanic land with Waak. There has to be something I can do, she thought to herself, something, anything!

"No Jedi has ever set foot into a Sith Temple," said the Dark Lord, watching her. "So I did not know what to expect. But this, combined with the fact that the Dark side was waiting for you to turn to it, lead to this. I quite understand that you wish you were dead – and that it would be a relief. However, as much as I would like to grant that pleasure to Lady Tarralyanna, I must tell you something first, what might force you to change your mind."

Larynthe snorted, still holding her head with her hands as though it might break free and bounce away on its own, not listening up to now.

"What could that possibly be?" she asked with contempt in her voice.

She did not care about anything any more. She did not care about the fact that she was being openly hostile toward a Sith Lord. She hoped she would offend him badly enough to make him want to kill her, then and there. Because even if she got captured by the Sith, she still had the light side. There was still hope, something worth living for. Now, for Larynthe, there was nothing more worth living for.

"Not many Jedi have managed to actually use the Dark side, I am sure you know, for the Jedi Order was very swift and effective in eradicating such individuals," the Dark Lord went on, ignoring her impertinence. "But of those who have – they found that death would be the last thing they would want, even if life was a torment greater than they could bear. Have you ever heard of Kommaél?"

Larynthe raised her head, staring up at the hooded figure, the source of all of her torment, the reason for her fall and her agony, and she hated him and feared him at the same time, wishing he would just lift one of those ringed fingers and choke her to death with the Dark side. But at the mention of the word, her mind began to work again. Memories flashed before her eyes and she thought about it for a moment, after what she let out a contemptuous laugh and looked down on her feet once again.

"It is a bogey-story told to little children," she said with bitterness. "Such a thing does not exist."

"The Jedi who have begun to work with the Dark side were not accepted by it, in the true meaning of the word, for, as I am sure you have learned by now, a person needs to pledge his allegiance to the Dark side. Thus it acknowledges him and accepts him. Only then he becomes a Sith. You will be surprised to learn that the Jedi ceremonies also have a deeper meaning. I know that the Jedi do not think much of these rituals and consider them to be a mere formality, a part of tradition, but they leave permanent seals on one's soul. But if one breaks one's oath by abandoning the light and never gives another one, to the Dark side – one is lost, truly lost. Such a soul ends up in the purgatory of Kommaél."

"LIES!" shrieked Larynthe, bending forward. "ALL LIES! YOU KNEW – ALL ALONG! I WANT TO DIE, NOW!"

Her shoulders shook as she sobbed uncontrollably, furious tears running down her cheeks. The Dark Lord was still staring calmly at her.

"I cannot bear it, I could not bear it," she whispered in a broken voice. "Why do you hate me so much? What have I done to you, to deserve this torture?"

She lifted her glance to rest on the Dark Lord's hood and waited for an answer. She felt she was desperate enough to actually wait for the Dark Lord to answer her questions.

"I have never said that," he said quietly, watching her. "And if you want proof, remember that I have mentioned the purgatory first and stated my presumption what would happen if you died now. If I wanted to torture you, I would have spared myself the trouble and killed you straight away, never wondering where your soul might go."

She stared at him, speechless, wiping off tears that were obscuring her vision. She was both startled and angry as he said this; but at length, she had to confess he was right, although she could not understand why would he care about her, if it was not because of his apprentices who enjoyed having her around.

"What do you want to do with me, then?" she asked furiously.

"From my experience," he said slowly, getting to his feet and beginning to pace the room, with her following him with her glance, "and knowledge, given to me by the spirit of my late master, one can turn from the light side to the Dark side, but it does not work the other way round." He paused and gave her a serious look. "Why? Because once a person begins working with the Dark side, he gains another perspective, another way of looking at things and he does not _want_ to go back. Once a person feels the power of Darkness and opens himself to it, he will not want to leave it. Not that power is on your mind, of course," he went on, as she snorted in disbelief once again and looked away, rubbing her eyes. "But this is a fact. There is no turning back. There is only one alternative. You can accept the Dark side and pledge your allegiance to it."

"NEVER!" she screamed. "I WILL NEVER DO IT!"

"You are being irrational," observed the Dark Lord calmly, following her lapse of hysteria with a serious look on his face. "And I understand this has been a great shock for you, so I shall give you time to process it. However, before I send you off, I shall tell you this. You have no choice. It has been your fate, all along, can you not see that? The Force drove you to Gnath and the fact that the Dark side had literally pointed at you made me take you with me. If it was not for this simple fact, you would have been killed ages ago, like your companion. But the Force is responsible for all of this and it has been your destiny. Do you not want to serve it, whichever side? To honour its will and fulfil your destiny?"

Larynthe remembered hearing something similar from Lady Tarralyanna, but she could not recall it fully. She would plunge a knife into her heart the first chance she gets, she decided.

"That is all I have to say to you. And when you will want to speak to me about this again, you will tell so to either of my apprentices, when they come to see you. Now you may go," he said, sitting down again and waving a dismissive hand. Larynthe got to her feet shakily, and, rubbing her eyes, stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her. The Dark Lord smiled, nodding to himself.


	25. Chapter 24 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Mieszak: I love descriptions because it makes everything more life-like. And there will be action, don't worry. The story is slowly going toward the grand finale, but that will take some time. Since the characters have been invented, they should be properly introduced. Glad you're reading.

Before we get back to the poor fallen Jedi, the two Sith talk about their ceremonies of Coming and reminisce. Just a bit of Sith philosophy. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo CAP. XXIV – Memories

The Chancellor climbed the narrow stairs that led to the top of one of the towers of the Court, yearning for some fresh air, when it became apparent that someone was already there. He halted dead at the sight of the two people who were sitting outside.

"I am very sorry, Lord and Lady," he stammered out. "I was not aware someone else was here. I shall not disturb you."

He disappeared in the doorway and quietly closed the door behind him. The two Sith snorted with laughter and continued their discussion. The cone-shaped roof of the tower offered them protection from the sunlight, and besides, the view was inspiring, as Tarralyanna put it, as they could observe the citizens unseen and study their behaviour and movements. They were discussing Larynthe, but were speaking Sith, aware that her presence had to be kept a secret.

"Maybe they expect children to start understanding things very early," said Lady Tarralyanna, thinking about this.

They were talking about punishments and how Larynthe wondered at everything Tarralyanna said about her childhood and the way she was trained. Children could not understand most things and discipline did not come natural to them, Tarralyanna believed, as learned from experience. Thus, if they are to be trained in the Force, some things have to be imposed upon them, by the means of punishment and reward. She remembered her Master giving her rewards for her good work, but he also punished her for a number of things. When she first managed to levitate a rock with the Dark side, after she was practising it diligently throughout the whole week, as he told her, for he wanted to see whether she would do it on her own, she found a small package in her chambers.

Tarralyanna was well used to the quietness of her chambers and she never felt lonely or wanted to live with her brother. Her need to be alone was genuine and she liked her chambers, as she decorated them the way she wanted to, with Peetah's help. Later she redecorated her chambers on her own. She found the small black package on her writing table, along with a note which was pinned to it. "We must fall, before we can rise," it read in her Master's handwriting. Eagerly she ripped the paper and pulled the small wooden box open. Inside was a snail's shell, but not that of just any snail. She had been given a thick book on zoology and she had been reading it for a while. She once complained to Tammutyen that there were too many animals in there, too many things she had never seen and could not imagine, let along learn about them, and her Master must have heard her. This blue shell of a snail the size of her fist belonged to species which lived on the shores of the Caelian domain. It was nicknamed 'horned angel' because it had very prominent horns, and its soft, light blue colour reminded people of angels. She showed it to her brother, who was not all fascinated with it, but rather with the fact the Dark Lord rewarded her. She placed it beside her plate and stared at it as she ate. Its shiny surface reflected the candlelight and yet it absorbed some of it, so that it seemed to be glowing from inside. She was simply fascinated with it and studied it for days afterwards. It certainly awoke fresh interest in zoology in her.

"If they do, then they must be stupider than I thought," said Tammutyen. They laughed. He offered her one of his cigars, but she shook her head, widening her eyes at him.

"No way," she said. "I would faint if I smoked that."

He shrugged and ignited it, leaning aback in his seat and staring at the snowy mountains in the distance.

"It is a completely different system, Tammutyen," she said, thinking about this and pulling out one of her long cigarettes with dignity. "They teach that showing one's emotions is acceptable; that it is human. That it is all right to feel sad, happy, or angry – and yet they consider too much of anger to be bad. They call such people, who are prone to anger—" at what she gave him a meaningful look, "—'aggressive' people; 'bullies', the Jedi told me. Why? If they encourage the display of emotions in the first place?"

"Master said that they were afraid of it," said Tammutyen, his cigar bobbing as he spoke.

"Well, all right, that is something I can accept," said Tarralyanna, nodding. "There are cowards. And cowards are afraid of everything that jeopardises them, everything that threatens to destroy what they believe in, what they know. They are afraid of the unknown. All right, I can understand that. And thus, anger, in its full size and strength, can be intimidating. We both know that. Thus they are afraid of it, afraid to lose control over it, fearing destruction."

"Yes," he agreed. "I can go with that, too. I can understand it."

"Could it be, then," she spoke suddenly after a pause. "That the Jedi was afraid of what her world might look like, after her companion was killed? She loved him, she told me so herself. So – what if her fear of the unknown actually manifested as sorrow? As grief? She cried as she thought of him because it reminded her how her life used to look like and with him gone, she found herself at a very strange place. Especially with the fact that she lost her ability to feel the light side."

"If that is true," said Tammutyen, amazed, "Then the Jedi are the most contradictory specimens of human begins I have come across, and you are the best psychologist I have ever heard of."

She gave him a quick smile and continued thinking about this, deciding that it made sense. Fear, she thought; it is the root of all evil. Whenever she encountered something inexplicable like this, she would try fitting fear into to picture.

"She has never really suffered, never really felt profound physical pain," she continued. "Which is why she believes that there is nothing worse than death. How strange, is it not?"

"It is funny, actually," said Tammutyen, laughing. "In a way, she is still a child. She knows nothing."

"Indeed," said Tarralyanna, nodding seriously. "Do you know what she told me when I talked about the ceremony of Coming? That she did not believe one required 'such perverse sacrifices to prove oneself'."

Tammutyen now positively roared with laughter and Tarralyanna sat shaking her head. Tammutyen thought it was a damn good joke.

"Well, not any more," he said, still chuckling to himself. "Sacrifice of our lives does not really pose much of a challenge any more. But at the time it was a sacrifice."

For a while they sat in silence, thinking and smoking.

"Why do you suppose there is just one word for 'sister' in Albinian?" she asked at length. "It designates both a sibling, meaning the other child of the same parent, as an equal in an Order? I know for a fact that there are certain organisations in which it is a custom to call another member brother or sister, so this seems to be nothing new to the people of Horukaan. Many people now believe we are children of the same parent, because of the ambiguousness of the word."

"Humans. Imprecise and vague. Do we care?" he growled. Tarralyanna smiled.

They reminisced about their ceremonies of Coming. Tammutyen was still laughing about hers, whereas she could barely believe what happened herself. Now it all seemed like a distant dream and she was now certain that the Dark side manipulated her and led her to believe what she had to believe.

Tarralyanna was suffering from great strain and anxiety that week, prior to the Ceremony, not knowing she was to attend one at all, because her Master did not say a word to her about it. She was alternating from one disappointment and defeat to another. Nothing she did was right; and it reminded her very vividly of the time she tried to kill herself. It was the same feeling all right, although her capacity for work and her capabilities have grown enormously. It was the same choking, horrible feeling of helplessness – she was trying as hard as she could and yet it felt like running in place. Her Master did not remark on this, nor did it seem to her that he noticed at all. During trainings he ignored her and only every now and then cast a contemptuous glance at her which made her feel sick.

She could not sleep, or barely. Everything she learned during the day seemed to vanish from her blunt mind already the following morning and her limbs felt sore and heavy, unable to follow the voice of her will, which was faltering as well. Her meditation was a nightmare. She would try so hard to concentrate that her palms were bathing in sweat when she would open her eyes and yet nothing was accomplished. Coffee did not help any more, but gave her terrible chest pains instead which only made matters worse. As she put it herself, her inner incongruence and disharmony were growing with alarming speed, and she felt there was nothing she could do. She got back to basics, tried again and again, more zealously, but nothing worked. It almost felt as though the Dark side itself had turned away from her and did not offer her the same inspiration and support as it normally did. She felt as though she was cursed.

One morning, her Master approached her and said he wanted to speak to her.

"You are either not trying hard enough," he told her sternly, while she stared at her hands blankly. "Or your power is diminishing. Either way, I do not feel that this will work any more. I am sure you have given your best – but it means that you simply have not been born to be a Sith knight. But, I shall be merciful. I shall give you time to think about how you want to die."

Tarralyanna did not need time to think. A picture she last saw in her Zoology of Horukaan handbook appeared in her mind and she lifted her glance.

"The Ps'Loth, Master," she choked. "I choose the Ps'Loth."

"Very well," he said softly. "You shall have one shortly."

She attended her morning training, all the while thinking it was her last. She did not say anything to Tammutyen, who did not want to broach the issue of her current state, thinking that he would do more harm than good in doing so. When she returned to her chambers, wishing she could get there fast enough so that she could collapse on her bed, she found a large box beside the fireplace. Strange hissing was coming from it. She approached it, her hands trembling, and peered inside. A large black and scarlet snake was sleeping coiled at the bottom of the box – the Ps'Loth, the venomous mountain snake, which preyed upon its victims from the scanty shrubbery which grew on mountain plateaus. Tears filled her eyes; a part of her wanted to believe that her Master was joking, but he was a Sith. He was merciless and had absolutely no remorse, placing his duty above all just like his students, who esteemed the same virtues themselves. Tarralyanna understood him; he could not keep her as his apprentice, as powerful as he was, and she did not deserve to be called one.

She dressed herself in her sad'khai, finding strange comfort in the fact that she would at least die a Sith and took the box with her into her meditation chamber. She could have pushed her hand inside the box then and there, but she wanted to make a ceremony out of it. She was grateful to the Dark side to all that it offered her and to her Master for teaching her all those years. The Dark side lavished her with gifts she could only dream about; and she wanted to honour it in the last moments of her life. When close to dying, a person recalled what or whom he cared about the most. Tarralyanna first thought about the Dark side and then about her Master. She sat down in her meditation chamber and folded her legs underneath her, falling into a strange state of empty numbness, cradled in the Dark side. It was not how she was used to feel it, when her meditations were still good, but it was there. She reached out for the Dark side and expressed her readiness for death; and she felt a faint response, something like an affirmation. In such a state, tears flowing down her cheeks, strength began to roil through her and she felt at peace at last. She pushed her hand inside the box and felt the sharp bite of the snake's fangs. She did not cry out. She noted with relief that the poison began to spread through her blood and again reached out for the Dark side, falling into nothingness, her thoughts slowing down along with her heat. The next thing she knew, her Master was standing beside her and was smiling softly at her.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked. She blinked.

"My Master," she answered quietly, thinking she was dead. She reached out with her hand for him. To her surprise, he caught her hand and held it firmly in his, looking down at her seriously. This assured her that she must be dead, because he would not have done such a thing after everything that happened.

"And who are you?" he asked.

"Tarralyanna, servant of the Great Dark side; in the Dark side I have been born, in its mighty embrace I have lived, and in its deep bowel I shall find my last rest," she answered.

"Rise," he said, getting to his feet and distancing himself away from her. "And follow me."

Staggering, she followed him. She felt dizzy and weak on her feet and her sight was blurred. The Dark Lord led her to a dark chamber and there seated himself on what looked like a throne, telling her to wait by the entrance. Standing hunched and trembling, what was uncharacteristic enough for her, she stared at him.

"I am the Dark Lord of the Sith," he spoke in a deep, echoing voice. "I am the tongue of the mighty Dark side on Horukaan. I am the eyes of flashing thunder; the voice of the roaring wind. I am the might of the stars, the long-lost twirl of Darkness which shall once again swallow the world. Who are you?"

Tarralyanna, having read about legends of the guardians of the afterlife world of the Dark side, believed that he had manifested himself for her there in order to lead her to the Dark side, to rest there.

"Tarralyanna, servant of the mighty Dark side," she said quietly.

"Come forward," said the Dark Lord.

She made a few paces in his direction and then fell to her knees. Her legs gave way under her.

"I do not regret anything I have done in my life," she said, uninvited, as though urged by the Dark side itself to speak, but her Master patiently sat and listened. "Because I only ever wanted to become a powerful Sith. I just wish I had the strength to become one in my lifetime and I am sorry I disappointed you."

"If you were not a Sith," he said slowly. "Who would you have wanted to be?"

The question took her by surprise and she looked up, thinking. Her thoughts were easily accessible to the Dark Lord and he was able to check the truthfulness of her statements, as she answered, shaking her head:

"I do not know, my Master. I have been born a Sith. To become a Sith was my only purpose. Not to be a Sith would mean to cease existing."

"Why do you think you have been born a Sith?" he asked, giving a laugh that confused her. "I did not see anything so grand and magnificent in your work."

"It is my purpose," she said quietly. "It is who I am. And I have given everything in order to fulfil this goal. When it could not be fulfilled, I looked for another way how to serve the Dark side – from the grave."

The Dark Lord was silent for a moment and then got to his feet, approaching her. She did not look up until he was sheer before her, and extended a hand. He lowered his hand on her head and she felt him caress her hair. As he did so, noise coming from the Dark side itself filled her ears and made her temporarily deaf. The Dark side enveloped her spirit and lifted it into nothingness; she felt as though she was being ripped apart by the force of this wave, but she was not afraid. She was dying – at last.

She opened her eyes to stare at familiar pair of feet and lifted her head, wondering where she was. The Dark side vibrated around her with such strength and force that the first thing she thought was that she indeed was dead at last, because she did not remember ever feeling so in tune with the Dark side. She was home.

"Open your eyes," said a familiar voice.

She looked up, jerking her head so hard it began to ache and the pain she felt triggered doubt within her – she could not feel pain if she was dead, could she?

"No, you are not dead," answered her Master. She knelt on, uncertain what to think of this, while he bent forward. "Give me your left hand," he said. She immediately extended it, not thinking. She felt him take it and then slip a ring on her ring finger. It was heavy and cold, but it was glowing from within; glowing, with the power of the Dark side. It was the same finger Tammutyen wore his new ring on, she remembered now and looked up. The Dark Lord nodded at her and waved a hand.

"Rise," he said softly, looking down at her with pride – she would never forget it. "Lady Tarralyanna of the Sith."

For a moment she hesitated, but then got to her feet, staring at him.

"You have passed your test, my apprentice," he said quietly, surveying her with his glance. "You have laid down your life before me and before the Dark side, and pledged your eternal allegiance to it. You have conquered your last fear – the fear of death and now nothing can stand in your way."

She stared at him, still unable to process his words.

"Then… I am not dead?" she whispered. "But the snake, it…"

"Do you seriously believe that the Dark side is not powerful enough to save its servant from death?" he asked, laughing a little. "The poison is gone from you; the Dark side accepted your offering and gave you power in return."

"_My Master,_" she whispered, her chest heaving up and down as the meaning of these words finally reached her blunt mind. "I do not know what to say!"

"I know what I am going to say, though," he said softly. "I am proud of you, Tarralyanna. You have outdone my expectations. Your brother might have been knighted before you, but you have shown courage and endurance rarely seen. You may have suffered a long period of incongruence, but you broke out of it, and now you can reap all of the fruits of your long, hard work."

"You have suffered a lot," said the Dark Lord quietly. "But in pain you have been born anew; in death you have found life; and flesh is but a shell for you now."

He tapped her on the shoulder and distanced himself away from her. Tarralyanna – or better, Lady Tarralyanna – could not stop grinning as she stared at his back.

"I want you to go to your chambers and think about your experience," he said, walking back to his throne, his black cloak brushing gently against the polished floor. "About everything that happened in the past two weeks. And then, I want you to write an Oath. It shall be an Oath to the Dark side, to me, expressing your views on yourself as you are now and a summary of your experience, what you had been through. You will come here, tomorrow at the fall of the Luth sun, and hand it over to me."

"Yes, my Master," she said, knowing that she was supposed to be feeling insanely happy, having just made it through the ceremony of the Coming, but surprisingly, she did not feel madly happy. She was just – pleased.

"Your brother shall be warned not to trouble you," he said, picking something up from a table beside the throne – it was some sort of an amulet, she noted. "As it is important that you do it on your own."

"I understand, Master," she said, nodding.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Tammutyen's experience was quite different, although in essence the same. He had never been told that the Ceremony was about to be done soon and he found himself experiencing all the worst fears that followed him throughout his childhood. One night, he dreamt about Tarralyanna and that he got lost in his Rage – something that happened all too often when he was a boy. He was hungry, he was angry and he lost himself in his Rage, forgetting about who he was or what he was doing, driven by one desire only – to destroy. In his dream he killed Tarralyanna by cutting her into many pieces with an axe. His Master appeared in his dream. Tammutyen tried to kill him too, as he was threatening to punish him for his disobedience. Just as he was about to kill him, he woke up in cold sweat, panting, and lay in his bed for quite some time, thinking about his dream. The experience frightened him for one simple reason. The creatures of the night – one of which he was – were bloodthirsty by nature and did not basically care about who they bit and how many they killed in order to satiate their stomachs. To Tammutyen, it had always been an insult to presume that he would fall that low, that he would not be able to control his own urges for feeding and he prided himself with his self-control. And to see himself, in his dream, so vividly, so life-like, giving in to the worst parts of himself, was more he could bear.

He was tempted again and again, even in a waking state, and he did not know what was worse – dreaming about it or experiencing it in its full size and horror. Smells of blood seemed to squeeze through the door of his chambers and it was just horrible to watch how his body reacted to it, to realise how he could not control himself, despite of how much he was actually eating and yet never having enough. To compensate for the awful feeling of destructiveness that seemed to be raging within him, just waiting to be unleashed, he would angrily thrust daggers into his flesh and then watch it heal, his eyes burning, his blood boiling, the horrible feeling of hunger and inability to stay at one place smothering him until he thought he would burst out of his skin.

And then there were the Dark side apparitions. They followed him everywhere, reminding him of what he really was and telling him that he was hungry, egging him on. They would remind him of his worst fears and made even sleeping a nightmare. His chambers were full of them, behind every corner, under his bed, in his meditation chamber, behind the cabinet, staring at him threateningly and wordlessly, while he tried to go about his daily duties. His natural proneness to anger now seemed to be set free without his consent. His mind, when not carefully controlled, was a nest of brutality no human being could ever imagine. But the worst was the fear of what he might become, if the last traces of control were gone; if he lost himself in the dark, throttling wave of destructive anger which did not care about anything. Its purpose was to destroy and it wanted Tammutyen to serve it, rather than control it.

He endured this and fought and failed, too many times to count. But at some point he snapped. He got so fed up with it, so angry, that he went to meditate, determined to ask the Dark side to kill him. He sank into meditation and slowly distanced himself away from the physical world. The whispers of the beast felt like the pounding of a hammer against his skull.

"Mighty Dark side," he thought, standing in his mental Temple, where he usually went to find peace and to counsel with the Dark side – or, rather, with himself. "I turn to you, in these darkest moments and the eclipse of my power. Take me with you; take my body – it is yours. I am too weak and I cannot serve you on this world."

As he sank into the Dark side, it occurred to him how his anger could be put to use. Instead of being angry with himself for failing to cope with this crisis, he should turn this anger on the outside and use its power. Use it against this beast to tame it. Now it was too late, of course... But the least he could do was to try. In his mental landscape he let a lock of his hair drop into the sacrificial brazier, as a symbol of the beast within him which was consuming him, and he let it burn. And as he watched it burn, he felt strangely at peace. The Dark side apparitions closed in on him and he relaxed, allowing them to seize hold of him and start tugging at him. As he felt being ripped apart, he did not cry out or panic. He felt he had done what was supposed to and waited for the end to come, for the Dark side to take him and allow his body to die. He had no idea how long he sat there; all he knew was that he wanted the Dark side to take him. He opened his eyes to see his Master standing over him.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked quietly.

"My Master," answered Tammutyen in voice which did not seem entirely his own.

"And do you know who you are?" his Master asked.

He had to think about this for a moment, for at first, he had no idea. He sat in meditation for far too long. Then he answered:

"Tammutyen, servant of the Great Dark side."

"Follow me," said his Master curtly and turned away from him.

Tammutyen tried to get up, but it seemed as though his limbs were glued to the floor. When he managed to disentangle himself from his robes and pull out his legs from under each other, it became apparent that he could barely walk. His blood was completely drained from his legs and it took quite a bit of time and effort on his part to get up and start using his legs, while his Master patiently waited in the other room, watching him without a word. He led him into a dark chamber and there settled himself on a throne. Tammutyen gaped at him, not knowing what to think.

"I am the Dark Lord of the Sith," said his Master in a deep voice. "I am the voice of the Dark side on this world. I am the voice of the storm and thunder; I am the eyes of the Black Flame; I am Rage and I am Power; I am the hand of the Dark side which shall swallow this world. Who are you?"

"Tammutyen, servant of the Dark side," said Tammutyen in a strange voice. It now positively looked like he succeeded and that he was indeed dead. His Master would lead him across to the Dark side, to rest there, he believed.

"Why do you come?" asked the Dark Lord.

Tammutyen took a deep breath before he answered, thinking for a moment of how to phrase his reasons.

"I did not choose death as an escape – I chose it because I was unable to fulfil my purpose on this world and wanted to do it from the grave. I was weak; but I hope I will still get the chance to fulfil the will of the Dark side."

"If you decided to die for such a reason," said the Dark Lord slowly. "Then you must pledge your eternal allegiance to the Dark side. You must forever belong to it and honour it; there shall be no rest, no joy for you. And you shall exist for all eternity with the Dark side."

"Yes, my Master," answered Tammutyen fanatically. "My flesh was weak; but my will is much, much stronger. I shall dart and flash across the world, serving the Dark side, and I will never get weary. I am a Sith – let me leave my weak body behind and let my soul rest with the Dark side."

The Dark Lord watched him for a few moments, obviously listening to his thoughts. Tammutyen waited with his head bowed, feeling oddly focused after all that torment. He heard his Master descend the throne and approach him.

"Give me your left hand," said his Master quietly. Tammutyen wondered what was going to happen – would he brand him again? Why did he need his left hand? The Dark Lord took it into his, and before Tammutyen could wonder why he was feeling his cold hands if he was dead, he felt a ring being slipped on his ring finger. Unable to hold back his curiosity, he looked at his hand and found himself staring at a large, ornate ring glittering on his hand.

"You have passed your test, my apprentice," said the Dark Lord with pride in his voice. "You have shown dare and courage beyond my expectations and your belonging to the Dark side has been sealed. You have not lost yourself and you have kept your goal in sight. Rage was your weapon and the Dark side helped you to hold the sword that destroyed the last obstacle in your path. Thus I knight you; and may the power of Rage always be with you and not against you. Rise, Lord Tammutyen of the Sith."

Tammutyen knelt on, processing these words and then slowly got to his feet, feeling his Master step away a little to give him more space, what sobered him up. Tammutyen was, after all, a bulky man. He stared at his Master, unable to believe this but read the answer in his eyes, as the two Sith stood facing each other. And the following moment, he was startled and astonished with the fact that the Dark side was practically raging around him and that it was right under his fingertips, ready to be used. Tammutyen winced, stretching out his senses and coming to the conclusion that the Dark side practically rushed toward him. It did not require any effort at all.

"Yes," said his Master, nodding and smiling. "The Dark side is stronger with you than ever. I am impressed with your work, my apprentice. You have shown great courage and dare; and not even death stood in your way."

Tammutyen spent the night writing his Oath and despite of what he thought, the words simply flew into his mind and he wrote line after line after line. When he was done, he rolled it up carefully and went to bed, exhausted, sleeping through most of the following day, unable to remember his dreams. The following day, he went to hand in his Oath. Kneeling beside the throne, he waited for the Dark Lord to read through it. When he was done, he placed it upon a table beside his throne, and proffered a dagger to Tammutyen.

"Now sign it," he said. "In blood."

Tammutyen eagerly gripped the dagger and drew it over his palm; he accidentally let a few black drops fall down on his oath, but he thought it was a good touch. He quickly pressed the quill on his palm and signed his name underneath his oath. His Master watched him without a word and picked up the parchment when Tammutyen stepped back once again.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

The Ceremony of Birth had been done when they were still children and the two Sith barely remembered it. Tammutyen however remembered how his name sounded when the tall man wearing black – the Dark Lord – spoke it aloud. They were five. Tammutyen thought it must be the name of a great warrior, someone strong and powerful, someone he both feared and wanted to be. Tarralyanna thought her own name was beautiful; graceful and dangerous at the same time. Before the Naming, they have simply been called the Boy and the Girl.

"Now, shake hands," said their Master, as the two children stood side by side before him, staring up at him with their eyes wide, wearing clean and tidy sad'khai, tied and arranged according to the Sith tradition. Tarralyanna's – then violet – hair was gently brushing against the floor, held back from her face by a few pins (as Peetah, her nanny, combed her hair for the Ceremony), whereas Tammutyen's was strewn all over his shoulders like a strange grey-brown curtain. He did not like his hair to be restrained when he was little and grumpily allowed Pentoh, his male nanny, to do this for him for his every training. The two children turned to look at each other and felt a strange bond. They have just been branded and together experienced the worst pain they have ever felt in their lives, and this, if nothing else, seemed to bring them closer.

"The life of a Sith is pain, and through it, he gets to know the Dark side and himself. But the life of a Sith is also strength and power, for through pain and torment, he rises to know himself, to understand himself, and to master himself," their Master said after he pressed the burning iron on their skin, leaving them screaming and gasping for breath.

"Come to know pain and explore it," he added as he turned away from them, leaving them kneeling on the floor, seemingly ignoring their agony.

Now Tammutyen extended his hand to Tarralyanna first and she reached out with hers reluctantly. She looked into his eyes and then placed her fist into his large palm, uncertain what it meant to 'shake hands'. They gripped each other's hand for a moment and then smiled at each other. It was a moment they would never forget.

"What you bear on your forearms," their Master spoke on, as they turned to face him once again solemnly, realising this was something tremendously important and staring up at their Master with wonder. "is the symbol of the bond you share with each other, and with me. From now on, I shall be your teacher, your guide in the Dark side, your advisor and your only authority. I shall be your Master. Do you swear to follow me wherever I may take you?"

"Yes, Master," answered Tarralyanna in her soft, childish voice. Tammutyen answered with his head bowed.

"Very well," said their Master, approaching them. The both of them bowed their heads, and Tarralyanna felt him slip something over her head, which went just a little over his knees. She took it into her hand after he passed her – it was a beautiful medallion, heavy, done in silver, and ornamented at the front. The symbol at the front seemed vaguely familiar. She saw with the corner of her eye the boy receiving an alike one. They were children, true; but they felt attracted to the power and authority of this strange, tall man and they respected him. Tarralyanna only wanted to stay with him because although he was strict with her and did not allow any nonsense, he seemed to care for her. He took her for walks, gave her toys and read to her from time to time.

He had been teaching them what he called their native language until then – a complicated set of glyphs which they drew for hours and hours together in the library and were learning how to read. They would read to each other and little Tarralyanna was pointing out his mistakes to Tammutyen, whereas he was trying to make her angry so that she would toss a book at him. The two children, however playful and at times bored with their work, would immediately get back to it as the tall, threatening figure of the Dark Lord swept into the library. He made them read to him and was patiently correcting their mistakes, holding a rod in his hand with which he would smack them for either impertinence or lack of trying. Until the age of nine, all they knew was Sith; and only then did the Dark Lord start teaching them Albinian and introducing other languages to them.

But Tarralyanna remembered something more from her childhood when the great Dark Lord Ka'Th'Spaa prodded her mind. She was three, a confused, frightened little thing, her round, beautiful sapphire eyes glancing over the black marble which seemed to be everywhere. The tall stranger came into her chambers and took her with him. She remembered running after him, trying to keep up his pace, running down the endless, long, terrifying corridors, until he paused and turned to her. A Malaskian was standing behind another small figure, which was looking around itself, equally confused and frightened. She stared at the small creature – she had no idea there was someone as small as she was around here.

"Girl," said the stranger in a quiet voice, pushing her forward slightly to come to face the boy, who was staring at her with his mouth slightly open, obviously asking himself the exact same thing as she was. "Meet the Boy." Tarralyanna, of course, knew that she was called the Girl and thought that it was her name, whereas she did not know the meaning of the word the stranger used – she supposed it was his own name.

"Where is father?" wheezed the boy in Albinian. Tarralyanna could not understand him and simply stared at him, drinking in his appearance.

"He is gone," said the tall stranger simply. He ignored Tammutyen's whimpering and sent the Malaskian off with the two children for them to play. So the childhood of the two Sith began.


	26. Chapter 25 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Merry Christmas to everyone! In this chapter we turn to the fallen Jedi again, who accompanies the two Sith for a ride in the mountains. Is there still hope for her? :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo CAP. XXV – A Whiff of Hope

Four days later, Tarralyanna found Larynthe lying on her bed, staring out numbly through the window. She declined all food – and now she was feeling dizzy and drained, unable to think about anything and hoping she would die of starvation. She had not been given any knives and there were no sharp objects in her room. Figures.

"Hello, my pet," said Tarralyanna with a soft smile. Larynthe turned slightly to look at her and then looked away, ignoring her. Tarralyanna ignored her desire to punish her for impertinence, in the light of everything that happened to her, and approached her. Her dress rustled softly as she walked.

"Brother and I are going for a little ride in the mountains," she said, glancing over Larynthe and noting she lost some weight. "He needs to hunt, and I need to get myself a new skin for my Saragon."

Larynthe looked aside and shrugged wordlessly. The Sith read her thoughts easily. She was asking herself why she came to tell her that. What did it have to do with Larynthe, if the two Sith were planning a trip?

"Master told me what happened to you," Lady Tarralyanna conversationally went on. "And I have left you on your own for some time for that reason, to give you time to think and come to terms with it."

Larynthe raised an eyebrow, not believing what the Sith was saying. The Jedi would have tried to spend time with and would not leave her alone with her troubled thoughts. They would understand she needed someone to comfort her and to be there for here and they would not leave her alone to mope and think about suicide. It must be the Sith way, she thought bitterly.

"But now I want you to go with us," the Sith went on, her voice still the same. "I have asked Master about it and he was very reluctant to allow it. But after I promised you would not try to escape or do anything stupid, he gave me his permission."

Her certainty in Larynthe's good intentions was startling, given the fact she was a Sith, and Larynthe now felt compelled to look at her. Tarralyanna was smiling softly at her, her hands crossed on her chest, her hair falling down her front. Her right wrist, however, was wrapped in a thick bandage, ending on her forearm.

"What happened?" asked Larynthe in a strange voice. She had not been using it lately.

"What?" asked Tarralyanna, leaning a little forward, and then realising that the Jedi was pointing at her wrist. "Oh, that," she said airily. "Master punished me for fighting with Tammutyen."

"Did you two have an argument?" asked Larynthe, turning to her, shocked to see first palpable proof of the Dark Lord's cruelty to his apprentices. The bandage was rather thick and Larynthe supposed the wound was deep.

"No, no," said the Sith, laughing a little, "We were just joking, playing around. He knocked me down to the floor and I hit him from behind, after what we started rolling across the floor with daggers… Well," she sighed. "Master has always forbidden us to fight each other, and though I am certain he knows we have only been fooling around, it was wrong. What matters to him is principle, really."

"But enough about that, my Jedi pet," said the Sith, her eyes glinting with excitement. "I got his permission to take you to the trip, so you would better start dressing. You have to see the Dead Man's Fall – little under five hours' ride from here. I bet you do not have those around your Jedi Temple."

She beamed at her and then left the room, leaving a stunned silence as she did so. Reluctantly, Larynthe rolled out of her bed and started to get dressed. The Sith's certainty that she would not escape was as naive as it was strange. But she had seen and heard so many strange things coming from the two that she was not surprised with anything any more. Perhaps the Sith believed that Larynthe had nowhere to go and that she would actually honour the promise she gave to the Dark Lord. It seemed that they thought very highly of promises in general and always kept them; thus they could not comprehend that someone could break his promise, least of all to the Dark Lord of the Sith.

Normally she would not think twice about a chance to escape which seemed to present itself to her. But as she listened to the Sith's story about the trip, something flashed across her blunt mind. If the Dark side surrounded her while she was in the Sith Temple, perhaps it would be different outside. Perhaps – and this made her stomach clench with excitement – she would be able to sense the light side of the Force outside, the right side, she reminded herself. But something else dissuaded her from her plans to escape. What would the Dark Lord do to his apprentices, if they promised to him that Larynthe would not escape? The Sith did not seem doubtful about this at all, and believed, in general, that Larynthe was very well off in the Temple and that she was happy, as happy as she could be with her companion dead and her now stranded on such a strange, unfriendly place. But she had to admit to herself – she has never treated her with disrespect. Although she smacked her on the head a few times and used the Dark side to turn her upside down as a threat – what Larynthe believed to be a part of her nature, as she hit her brother often and he pushed her around as well, treating each other with a sort of friendly aggressiveness – she was always mindful of Larynthe's needs. This became apparent to her as she offered her coffee – she noticed that Larynthe was stealing glances of the coffee pot and asked her whether she normally enjoyed coffee. When Larynthe's answer was positive, she poured a cup for her, saying that she could understand attachment to good coffee. This little grace left Larynthe stunned and she accepted it as one of the things she did not understand about the Sith. Mercilessness and emotional coldness she did not understand, but she could accept them, knowing this were the Sith she was thinking about; but offering her coffee for the benefit of her pleasure was something beyond her understanding and was contradictory to all she learned about the Sith. Thus she was clothed and ready when Peetah came for her and led her to the entrance to the Temple.

The two Sith stood before the entrance, talking quietly, strapping down their saddlebags and arranging their content. Lady Tarralyanna beckoned to Larynthe and at the sight of her, she noted, Lord Tammutyen straightened up, surveying her with interest. It almost seemed as though they were talking about her until she arrived.

"You ride well, do you not, Jedi Larynthe?" asked Tarralyanna, leading her toward a tall, grey horse.

Larynthe nodded, staring up at it. It was not a horse Larynthe was used to riding. This was a strong-chested, thick-furred mountain horse, bred primarily for riding but nevertheless it was apparent it had the blood of the sturdy, tall, mountain horse in its veins, renowned for its thick hooves and beautiful mane, which was used by the people of Gotan for making brushes and strings for their instruments.

"Here you go," said Lady Tarralyanna, lifting a hand and waving it. Larynthe felt herself being lifted up with the Dark side and levitated straight into the saddle. She glanced around herself, feeling the horse move under her, as though he was impatient to get going.

"The horse is a little young, but perfectly timid," said Tarralyanna, smiling at her from the ground. It was certainly a lot taller than the horses the Jedi used. "And Peetah packed your necessities – food and that kind of thing – into your saddlebags. You need no weapons, of course."

She laughed and turned to Tammutyen, who was watching them with his hands crossed on his chest. He was wearing thick wristbands and gloves, his long black cloak reaching the ground. He gripped the reins of his black stallion and heaved himself into the saddle by lifting his leg high and passing it over the saddle. There he settled himself comfortably and slowly pulled up his hood, glancing in Larynthe's direction.

"Now, we know the way, and you do not," said Tarralyanna, slipping gracefully into her own saddle, and thrusting her boots into stirrups. "So it would be for the best if you rode behind Lord Tammutyen; and I shall ride behind you."

Larynthe nodded without a word and followed the broad-shouldered Sith through the tall, iron courtyard gate and due east. He rode around the walls which surrounded the Temple and then led away from it, his horse trotting hard and nodding its head as though it was in the mood for a gallop. However, Tammutyen's strong legs tightened around its belly ruthlessly every time it seemed that the horse had a whim and thus it obediently trotted on.

"That," spoke Tarralyanna from behind, as Larynthe gaped at a dark, gaping hole, with Tammutyen ascending the slope leading away from it and toward the mountains, "is Pennyan Gorge. Bottomless, by all account."

"How could it be bottomless, my Lady?" asked Larynthe, startled, trying to catch a glimpse of it, but all she could see was blackness, as far as the eye could see. It seemed almost unnatural, for something as deep to be found there, looking as though someone simply drilled out a hole in the mountain.

"Well, use the Force," said Tarralyanna, shrugging. "Try to reach out as far as it would go."

Of course! In the light of everything, Larynthe completely forgot to try to feel the Force around her and now quickly concentrated, grateful for this chance, and reached out with her senses, trembling in anticipation. Of course, Tarralyanna understood very well what she was trying to do and was sniggering from behind. Larynthe almost thought for a moment that she succeeded, before she tried to compare it with her past experiences. Her stomach clenched unpleasantly. Has she become so immersed in it, that she could mistake it for the light side? Was it possible?

"My Lady," she addressed the Sith quickly, trying to sound humble, but ended up in sounding impatient. "Can you tell me something?"

"What?" asked Tarralyanna with a stifled laugh.

"What surrounds me now?" she asked in a trembling voice. "Is it the light side?"

"The light side?" echoed Tarralyanna. Tammutyen's growl of a laugh echoed from the head of the procession and Larynthe's heart froze. "Why, you silly little thing! I thought my Master explained it to you – once you cross to the Dark side, there is no turning back."

Larynthe felt horrible; it felt like losing her best friend for the second time all over again, and she could not bring herself to speak.

"Do you not think I have not been curious?" said Tarralyanna, her voice reaching Larynthe as though through a haze. "I wanted to sense the light side myself, to see what it felt like, and tried again and again. But it is impossible. Impossible for us, that is. My Master can do it."

"He… can?" asked Larynthe, incredulous.

"But of course," said Tarralyanna softly, resting her hands on the saddle. "If you are so keen on it and miss it so, then perhaps, with a lot of practice, you could accomplish it, too. As for myself, I have given it up. I was merely curious; but the matter is far too complicated to give it so much attention and undergo all that trouble for the sake of satisfying an academic interest."

"Do you think I could do that?" asked Larynthe, feeling fresh hope wake within her. It certainly sounded fantastic.

"As I said, with practice, you might," said Tarralyanna, "And, of course, you would have an advantage in your quest – you have used it before, so you would know how it feels like. Unlike me."

"I thought you could sense the Force around me when we duelled," said Larynthe.

"I could feel something, but it was nothing specific, nothing I could work with or study, just an indefinite sort of whoosh," said Tarralyanna with a sigh. "Sometimes I am so very sorry about this – it would offer me a new perspective, to know both sides. But it cannot be helped."

"And consequently," she went on, with a mysterious smile. "If you doubt my Master can reach out for the light side, all you have to do is to ask him to demonstrate it for you. Just be very humble and polite; and as he knows how much this means to you, I am certain he would oblige."

Larynthe was left to her thoughts throughout the following two hours of riding, grateful that they were riding through the mountains and that thick smoke coming from the Sith at the front was dispersing very quickly, melting with the chilly air.

The snow melted; and the road stretching ahead of them was muddy, but it looked used rather often, judging by the cart and hoof tracks. This seemed to be a regular path for all travellers, as the hoof tracks were leading in both directions. However, as the path lead onward, stretching like a long snake between two smaller gorges, thus acting as a natural bridge, the Sith took a sharp left turn and forced his horse to ascend the steep slope. Rocks rolled under his hooves, but the horses they rode seemed to be exceptionally strong. His black stallion barely let out a drop of sweat by the time they arrived at a handsome plateau, overlooking a few mountain lakes and a patch of shrubs nested in between them. Tarralyanna dismounted and led her horse toward the side of the mountain, where she unsaddled it and began pulling down her saddlebags. Not knowing what else to do, seeing that Tammutyen was dismounting as well, Larynthe disentangled herself from her stirrups and jumped down. However, she felt sudden weakness in her legs, which gave way under her – and the next thing she knew, she was sitting on the cold ground and gasping for air.

"You need nutrients, my Jedi pet," said Tarralyanna softly, watching Larynthe as she recovered from shock and slowly got to her feet. "Come and sit here, eat. Brother shall go hunting."

Tammutyen let out an excited growl as an affirmation, took out a large bow, and, with it and a quiver in his hands, he disappeared behind the pile of rocks, heading down into the valley and not looking back.

Larynthe was not sure about this. She did not want to eat, for she believed that she might die soon if she keeps to it – she already felt very weak.

"And I shall be taking you to a snake-hunt," said Tarralyanna, guessing what she was thinking about. "So you would better eat."

Larynthe sighed, resigning to her fate and pulling out several bundles at random from her saddlebags. With them in her hands she headed to the place where the Sith was sitting. In the meantime Lady Tarralyanna made a small camp-fire and seemed to enjoy the heat. She was smiling as she watched Larynthe sit down and she nodded to herself. Unwrapping one of the packages, she found several large brown balls, covered with something white. She did not know what it was, but took a bite nevertheless, not caring any more. She looked at the Sith with her brow furrowed as the taste reached her numb brain.

"Well, you _are_ Albinian, are you not?" asked the Sith with a laugh. "I have found that food in one of the books on Albinian eating preferences – it is called a cake, I believe. Peetah is not all that adept at making that sort of thing, but it looked quite all right to me."

Larynthe would have laughed, if she still had the energy to do so, and took another bite of the strange brown ball. Yes, it was a cake; of the wrong shape, with certain spices added to it which seemed kind of out of place, but it was sweet and she could taste crème inside as she chewed. This little bit of home filled her with strange strength and will for life. She looked at the Sith, who was slowly nibbling on something and gazing absently in the distance.

"Do you not eat sweets? Candies?" asked Larynthe.

Tarralyanna stared at her for a few moments before she understood what she was asking her, as she pointed at the cakes, lacking synonyms she might use. It did not seem only that the Sith never ate them, but that she did not know what they were.

"Oh, that," said Tarralyanna, looking away with disgust. "No. It is bad for my digestion and my organism. They are not compatible."

"But are you not curious? How it tastes like?" asked Larynthe in disbelief. She spent most of her life smuggling chocolate biscuits into the Temple and she simply could not understand the fact that someone did not feel the least curious about the taste of sweets and candies. Perhaps it was because she had no idea what they were or how good they tasted.

"A nutrient is a nutrient," answered the Sith, chewing. "It is a composition of different chemical elements, designed to fuel our bodies with strength. My body, however, could not bear with that."

She pointed at the cake in Larynthe's hand.

"How about your brother?" asked Larynthe. "I can understand you would not want to eat something like this, but he just might."

"Heart of Rage, it does not have anything to do with what I want and what I do not want," said Tarralyanna, now positively startled with the Jedi's ignorance and presumptions. "It is useless for me, do you not understand? I cannot gain anything by eating it and my organism would have one hard time trying to process it. Therefore, however it tastes, I do not care. As for Tammutyen, he is on a different diet."

She laughed in an amused sort of way and tied up the bag which seemed to be full of nuts and looked down toward the valley. How one could live without taking pleasure in food, Larynthe would never know. They almost seemed like machines – not feeling, not caring for anything but the Dark side, their Master and their training. Just as she was about to pose another question, a high-pitched shriek echoed the valley; a flock of birds rose like a cloud of dust and fluttered away, toward the mountains in the distance. Tarralyanna snorted with laughter, picking up her flask with water.

"He is having a great time," she said, still laughing.

Larynthe imagined he was shooting arrows at everything he saw, enjoying a killing spree.

"But of course, he is very fond of reptile meat," said Tarralyanna, putting away the flask and then glancing toward Larynthe. "Hurry up with that eating ceremony, will you? All of the snakes will soon be out and I really need that skin."

Larynthe stuffed a few more brown balls into her mouth and followed the Sith who led the way. After a sharp descent, the found themselves in a rocky valley, completely devoid of any vegetation. There the Sith came to a full stop and Larynthe felt the Dark side spread around her. She was scouting, obviously, and Larynthe was standing very still, thinking about what she said about the light side and about the Dark Lord. It seemed to be her only choice, if she ever wanted to get back to the right side of the Force. How very ironic, she thought, that I have to turn to a Sith to teach me the ways of the light side.

"Hold this," she heard the Sith say and quickly extended her hand to accept whatever she was giving her, still staring moodily at the ground before her. However, as she did not receive anything she looked up. The Sith was staring at her, just about to pull out the sword from her belt.

"I did not say anything," she said, staring at Larynthe with interest.

"What do you mean?" asked Larynthe, knowing that she had to keep her voice down because of the snakes. "You just said…"

"I thought about it it," said the Sith, still staring at her. "Mighty Darkness! This is why Master is so patient with you. The Dark side seems to be strong with you."

Larynthe wanted to say something, but snorted instead. The Sith was still glaring at her, as though measuring her up and now seeing her in an entirely different light. At length, she handed her the sword and took out her bow, getting back to business, for what Larynthe was more than grateful.

It almost seemed unbelievably reckless to give Larynthe a sword while the Sith now slowly proceeded through the rocks with her bow taut, not looking back, using the Dark side to navigate her way through the rocks. She crouched for some time, with Larynthe crouching behind her, lost in thought.

"There," said the Sith in a whisper, pointing her gloved finger toward a large pile of rocks. "Can you sense it?"

She turned to look at the Jedi, who lifted her eyebrows. She could not _sense _anything.

"Well, use the Force," said the Sith impatiently, flaring up her nostrils. Larynthe shook her head resolutely.

"Suit yourself," said the Sith. "If something attacks you, I will not jump to your rescue. But bear in mind that those snakes are not merely venomous – they make death a very nasty experience."

She moved away from her, approaching the rocks quietly, despite of the numerous rocks she might have stepped on. At long last, after what seemed like twenty minutes of sneaking around, the Sith straightened up as though pricked by a needle, leapt up, landed in a turn beside the pile and sent a shower of arrows at it. Larynthe ran toward her, holding her sword, noting that it was lighter than her Jalá sword.

"Aha," said the Sith, looking very pleased with herself and pushing a hand into the rocks, which turned out to be a very comfortable shelter for a creature that preferred warmth, for there was a sort of a hole in it, a place to hide. She pulled out a ten-foot snake, which had three or four short arrows sticking out of its head, hanging limply in the Sith's hands. Larynthe jumped aback, mortified. When she said snake hunting, she thought that the Sith would merely be hunting for rock snakes for her pleasure, but she did not expect something like this. What was worse, she had never seen a snake that large and revolting.

"Well, it is _dead_," said Tarralyanna, laughing at her expression and then looking down on the snake triumphantly. "G'Plath, or the Green Flyaway, as it is called in Albinian, I believe. It is nothing like the Montaar, but I really do not have time to wander around looking for it. The G'Plath's skin will do just fine."

By now Larynthe found out that the language they spoke while talking to each other was Sith and thought it rather sounded like a snake language itself – it seemed like a jumble of strange, hissing and gurgling noises. It was a real tongue-breaker, it seemed to Larynthe.

"Just look at it," said Tarralyanna fondly, caressing the smooth skin of the snake, which was gleaming. "It is beautiful. Quite young, too."

"I think I am going to be sick," mumbled Larynthe, after she glanced over the snake and looked at its staring, dead, yellow eyes. She turned away and doubled over.

"You ate too many of those cakes of yours," said Tarralyanna, laughing and pulling out a large bit of cloth she brought with her to wrap the snake in it – it was very important to keep the skin intact.

"Nothing to do with the cakes," muttered Larynthe, breathing deeply. "But that snake."

"What about it?" asked Tarralyanna, walking ahead of her and leading the way back to the camp.

"Horrible," said Larynthe with difficulty, thinking that the Sith was merely teasing her. "Slimy and horrible."

"You think it is horrible?" asked Tarralyanna, halting with the snake draped over her shoulder, hanging down her front. Larynthe took one look at the bit of the tail that was swinging to and fro and put a hand over her mouth, feeling ready to throw up again.

"You Jedi are so strange," said Lady Tarralyanna, resuming her walk and shaking her head. "You do not detest eating those… cow things, and yet you detest the sight of such a wonderful creature such as a snake. Very cunning and smart; graceful, long and shiny – simply beautiful. Cows are filthy, stupid, lazy and useless, except if you want to kill someone with their foul smell."

"You mean calf," mumbled Larynthe. "We do not eat cows. We eat calves."

"A baby cow," said Tarralyanna, turning to her in her walk and furrowing her brow. "Oh, yes. Now I remember. Three words for cows, how very peculiar."

She leaned forward and dropped the snake on the ground, staring at it with triumph and measuring it up. Larynthe sat down, her head spinning, her stomach in her throat. The Sith drew a knife and glanced over the wrapped snake, at what Larynthe gave a wail and covered her entire face with her cloak, breathing as though she was going to faint. The Sith lowered her knife and glanced over her with pity.

"Go and sit over there, if you feel so unwell," she said, pointing at the shrubbery beneath the plateau. "I shall call you when I am done."

Larynthe got to her feet and staggered toward the shrubbery, trying to drink some water to wash down the horrible taste of acid and sat with her head hanging between her knees, staring at the ground. Oddly, escape was not on her mind and she listened to the strange sounds which were coming from the direction of the plateau, trying to ignore them. She heard someone coming and turned around, feeling her stomach clench again as she did so. It was Lord Tammutyen.

He was swaying and humming to himself as he walked, apparently very pleased about something. He was holding a bloody dagger in his one hand and was carrying a large lizard around his neck which was dripping with blood, its long tail bobbing as he walked. The awful smell spread around him like a disease and reached Larynthe very quickly. She clapped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. Before he could say something, she was crouching and throwing up again. Lord Tammutyen stared at her for a few moments, not realising that the dead lizard was making her sick.

("Your pet does not seem to be well,") he yelled to Lady Tarralyanna in Sith.

("It is your carcass, Tammu,") answered the laughing Lady Tarralyanna. ("Just leave her, she shall be all right.")

("Carcass?") he echoed, staring at the poor Jedi, who was now coughing and fighting for breath. He lifted an eyebrow and then headed to the plateau, the unbearable stench disappearing along with him. Larynthe crouched, staring at the ground and trying to compose herself.

Some time later, she saw the feet of the female Sith approach her and she looked up.

"Lord Tammutyen cut his meat and put it away," she said with amusement in her voice, glancing over the pale and sweaty Larynthe. "And I have skinned my snake. You may come back now."

When she sat down by the fire again, she spotted a bundle which she supposed contained the snake's rolled skin, or what the Sith required of it. Lord Tammutyen was sitting by the fire with a cigar in his hand and staring at Larynthe with a derisive smile hovering on his lips.

"Do you normally react like this to dead animals?" asked Lady Tarralyanna, sitting down.

"I would not know," mumbled Larynthe. "I have never seen a dead ten-foot snake before."

"No?" asked Tarralyanna, lifting an eyebrow in a very Tammutyen-like fashion. "How very strange. Oh, well, I suppose that explains it."

"Did you know," she addressed Tammutyen in Albinian, so that Larynthe could understand them, "that she thinks snakes are revolting?"

"Really?" asked the monumental Sith, staring at the Jedi. "Which animals do you like, then?"

"Baby cows," said Tarralyanna readily. "Pigs. Oh and yes, hens."

"What in the name of Darkness is a hen?" asked Tammutyen, startled.

"Your Albinian has never been that good, has it?" she asked, laughing. "You know, those birds which always either sit on their eggs or eat? Laat'Teth?"

"No wonder they have problems with laziness, if they eat the meat of such animals," he said, waving a hand. "Goat – now that is meat. Very agile, very strong. Snake – smooth body made entirely out of muscle. Lizard – damn fast. Sweet, hard meat. One can break a tooth if one is not careful."

Larynthe was looking at him with a puzzled expression, trying hard not to visualise him actually eating a large snake and asking herself how he could actually eat something like that. What he said made sense, sort of – she realised that he ate meat of those animals the characteristics of which he admired. But she never thought of hens as lazy, or calves as smelly and stupid.

"What about bears?" she asked curiously.

"Only some parts," said Tammutyen, obviously impressed with the fact she guessed what was on his menu. "But I shall not share the particularities with you now. You still look a little unwell."

"You are very considerate, Lord Tammutyen," said Larynthe, unable to help herself. The Sith laughed, beamed at her and stretched.

"Let us go," he said to Lady Tarralyanna. "We should reach the caves before the rise of Luth. Such a great view."

They rode past the Dead Man's Fall, which turned out to be a half-frozen waterfall, thrashing down into the arid valley from the height of four hundred feet. Trees grew all around it and their roots stuck at all sorts of odd angles. It almost seemed impossible for a tree to grow there at all. The water poured over the rim and disappeared in a gaping hole at the bottom of the waterfall. Larynthe stared at it. She had never seen anything like it; and the sight of it filled her with dread and anxiety.

"Told you," said Tarralyanna, pulling her horse back beside her and glancing down the waterfall. "You do not have those around your Temple, do you?"

"Why is it called the Dead Man's Fall?" asked Larynthe.

"Well, basically because if a person would fall down," said the Sith, grinning, "he would first land on those sharp rocks – that would hurt. And then he would get stuck behind those sharp branches over there and get tossed around by the water. Not pleasant. And then, he would be carried away by the water and bump against the rocks until he would land into the pit and disappear in it."

Larynthe stared at her. The Sith was laughing pleasantly, obviously thinking this was a good joke.

"I would call it the Cursed Waterfall instead," said Larynthe, deciding not to share her thoughts with the Sith.

"Ah," exclaimed the Sith, nodding at her. "An excellent suggestion, Jedi Larynthe." She repeated what Larynthe said to her brother in Sith, who seemed to be very impressed. Larynthe said this without thinking, thus giving her opinion on the Sith's horrible story; but they seemed to like the name she gave to the waterfall.

Muttering to herself, Larynthe followed Tammutyen away from the waterfall, painfully aware of their use of the Dark side from time to time, as they seemed to be sweeping their surroundings for animals. They arrived at the caves little after the rise of Luth and there sat to eat at last. Exhausted and numb, having too many thoughts in her head, Larynthe sat a little away from them, while Lord Tammutyen roasted his lizard. She thought about it well and long – she certainly had time to do that. Nothing could be accomplished by her escape. She could not use the light side of the Force, and so, her life was over. But, if there was a chance that the Dark Lord would consider teaching her how to reawaken her abilities, she would give it a go. Why did he not mention this before? Why did he say that one loses perception for the light side, once one feels the Dark side?

"It is really very simple, Jedi Larynthe," said Tarralyanna, turning to her with an orange fruit in her hands, while Larynthe was busy eating potatoes. "By once sensing the Dark side and actually trying to use it, you gain a new perspective and lose the old one, which enabled you to reach out for the light side of the Force. But, if your mind is strong, if your will is strong, and if you command the Dark side very well, you can ask it to step aside for a moment."

"I asked Master about it, many times," she went on thoughtfully, while Larynthe listened, straining her ears. "How does it feel? He said… that to him, the light side speaks through the Dark side. It is there, and yet he cannot ignore the presence of the Dark side. Consider, for instance, a gush of wind and imagine someone is using a fan in the same room. You would normally feel only the wind, of course; but a trained mind, a powerful mind, can momentarily ignore the wind and sense the stirring of the air caused by the fan."

"That does not sound like the Force I was used to," sneered Larynthe, back on being bitter and angry. "How would he know how the light side feels like?" She avoided calling him by any name or title, uncertain herself why, but she knew that the thought of him filled her with cold dread.

"Oh, he knows," laughed Tarralyanna. "A long time ago, he used it."

"The light side?" echoed Larynthe, startled. "Was he… a Jedi?"

"Yes," answered the Sith, appearing as though she was proud of this, contrary to what Larynthe thought, for she rather believed that the Sith would hate to have any connection with the Jedi whatsoever. "He escaped from the Jedi Temple and found a teacher in the Dark side. He taught him. But he knows the light side, oh yes."

"When was this?" asked Larynthe, her heart beating fast. What she just discovered was extraordinary. "I was not aware of any fugitives."

The Sith gave her a sharp look and shook her head.

"We do not know his age," she said quietly. "And he never told us."

"I always thought that the use of the Dark side causes flesh decay," said Larynthe, glancing over the flawless, youthful face of the Sith. "So the Jedi believe," she defended herself.

"The ancient Sith were troubled by this, that is true," nodded the Sith seriously. "However, my Master… is so powerful that flesh is no obstacle for him. He developed techniques to avoid this. And he taught us the same."

"How?" asked Larynthe, gaping at her. She knew there was a secret to their youthful appearance! The Dark side was the Dark side and there had to be a catch. What was it?

"I cannot tell you," said the Sith, laughing. From the other side of the fire they could hear Tammutyen audibly chewing the lizard. "You will have to try to ask my Master that."

After more hunting and exploring the scenery, they came back to the camp once again. Night fell; and Larynthe found that the caves they spoke about were not merely caves. They stretched deep into the mountain and Larynthe did not like the endless dark openings, treacherous mouths gaping at her and stalactites dripping with water. She had been given a place to sleep at the entrance of the cave because the Sith wanted to make a fire, to feel warm and cosy in the depths of the cave. They laid down to sleep, one beside the other, enjoying the heat, whereas Larynthe sat right before the entrance, grateful that she was not forced to sleep inside and enjoying the fresh, albeit chilly, night air. Even if she would escape, what would it matter? What would it change? Where would she go? First, to the Jedi Temple, she decided. But what would they do with her, once they find out that all she could use is the Dark side? There must be someone there who can help me, she thought. But she would first find out all she could about the Sith Lord and ask him to demonstrate the light side for her. If he would ever comply. But, Dark side or not, if she ever returned to the Jedi Temple, all the knowledge she garnered, including this, would have to mean something to the masters.

She lay awake for hours, pondering, her thoughts jumping from one bitter conclusion to another, until she thought she could no longer bear it. She turned around, trying to get a view of the Sith. They were sleeping on their backs, side by side, and were breathing deeply. She could do it, she thought, her glance pausing on their weapons; they were asleep and defenceless. But no, she decided. Larynthe was not a murderer. The Sith gave her a chance to fight for her life, and despite of what Larynthe thought about her, she knew that she had been fair. There was something almost… noble about them, she thought, despite of their horrid morbid jokes and strange perspective. They were fast asleep, with all their weapons right under Larynthe's nose; and they did not think for one moment that Larynthe might think about killing them. She gave her promise and they believed that was that. Even the Sith, who cared about no one and nothing, but the Dark side, believed that she would keep to her promise. This filled her with guilt for planning her escape and even thinking about killing them. But at the same time she did not care about the consequences of her actions. 'You are thinking exactly like a Sith,' she heard Waak's voice in her head. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the image of his face hovering in front of her, furious tears pouring down the side of her face.

Slowly, reluctantly, Larynthe concentrated, and summoned the Force. It answered; slowly, and with tardiness, but it answered. She tried to listen to the tingling around her which was the Dark side. She once managed to confuse it with the light side – how? Has she fallen that low? How did the Dark side feel, she asked herself, grateful that the two were asleep and that they could not sense her shameful experiments? Swift, she decided, almost flammable; it was very active, she thought further; but as she reached out a bit further, she checked and withdrew her Force senses. She felt something… a rumble from the deep, a voiceless voice, a thunder of rage which was quivering, waiting to be unleashed, and the strength of it scared her. What was it? She was afraid to investigate any further and decided she would not try this again. She fell asleep at last and had many dreams about the end of the world. She was hunted by her fellow Jedi, who kept yelling at her and saying she had become a Sith, whereas the two Sith were laughing at her and telling her that no one could escape the Dark side. Morning came as a relief.


	27. Chapter 26 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXVI – Snakes' Language

The thin lips of the Dark Lord stretched into a soft smile. He put his scripture aside and fixed his glance at the figure which swept into the room, bowing her head, her every hair standing on end despite of the heat.

"I knew you would come again," said the Dark Lord softly. "Sit, Jedi Larynthe."

The room Larynthe had been led to by Lord Tammutyen, who grinned at her triumphantly when she expressed her wish to speak to the Dark Lord, was filled with tobacco haze, which hovered over the furniture and over the table like strange mist. The Dark Lord wore hood over his face and all that was visible to Larynthe were his lips, thin and merciless, always sneering, always smiling in that awful, superior sort of way that made her believe he was an inch away from torturing her. He interlaced his fingers on the table and nodded.

"Well?" he asked softly. "Why is it that you have come back, Jedi Larynthe?"

"Lady Tarralyanna told me…" she began her previously practised speech, her throat dry. She decided to spit it all out, before she lost her nerve. "That… you could summon the light side."

The Dark Lord surveyed her with his glance and then leaned aback, pressing the tips of his fingers together.

"Why would you care about that? Is it mere curiosity?" he asked.

"I do not know," said Larynthe quietly and sincerely. Again she was avoiding calling him by any titles or names, and he did not seem to mind.

"I see," he said quietly. "You yearn to feel the light side, because you miss it? Because it would be the one thing that you have left? I can understand that. But do you would want to get back to it? I was not lying; you cannot go back. But, as my apprentice said, you can learn how to sense it again, through the Dark side."

"Have you heard of the name of a certain master Gromm-Tau?" he asked her unexpectedly, after a pause. Larynthe jerked unawares – of course she heard of him. His fate was a legend and it was a story passed on from generation to generation of the young Jedi.

"I thought you would know his name," he said, chuckling softly. "Such a great example little Jedi can learn from, such a great lesson in obedience to the Council. But tell me, Jedi Larynthe, what have they told you about how he died?"

"The Dark side… destroyed his flesh," said Larynthe in a trembling voice, staring at her feet. "He died at the age of forty-something."

"Wrong," said the Dark Lord in a dangerous hiss, pointing a finger at her.

There was something about the tone in his voice that made Larynthe think that he knew far more about the matter than he was letting on.

"He was murdered. By the Jedi, because he crossed to the Dark side. He was a threat to the Order and to its reputation and he had to be eliminated. You may not believe me; but I do not think that anyone knows about this, except for the Council itself. The members of the Jedi Council brought a decision, that such a rebellious creature like him, such a threat, had to be removed, but quietly. The Jedi have seen him tottering around the Temple because he was being impersonated. I know this – first hand. From Gromm-Tau himself."

"But he lived more than two hundred years ago!" Larynthe protested. She was thinking about Lady Tarralyanna's remark on the Dark Lord's age and she now wondered whether he indeed could be two hundred years old.

"He was a Sith. He died a Sith, for he did not denounce the Dark side, even as they killed him," said the Dark Lord in a dangerous voice. "Thus his spirit rests with the Dark side. And I have very good ears for listening."

Now she understood – he had spoken to his spirit. Not many Jedi could do this. Bakku, for one, could do it, but this because he had a close encounter with death, which left him with this gift. Master Quoh – he was very old and very wise, and he could do it as well. Perhaps it was different with the Dark side, she wondered? Perhaps the spirits came easily to a keen listener and a powerful Sith? There had not been many Sith throughout the history anyway.

"Now, what do you think would the Jedi Order do to you," asked the Dark Lord in a chilling voice, leaning forward, "if you came back now? Now you are their enemy and they would destroy you without thinking. In their eyes, you are a threat. Do you know why? Because they are afraid; they are afraid of us, afraid of the Dark side and its power; and he who is afraid, kills and destroys without thinking. You can disagree with me, Jedi Larynthe. But I have given you a realistic point of view and revealed the secret of Gromm-Tau's death to you."

"And now you ask me whether I could demonstrate the light side for you?" he asked, almost rhetorically, a powerful seated figure which needed no throne to be sitting on to be feared and respected. "What is it, that you can offer me in return?"

Larynthe was startled; she did not expect this.

"I have nothing; I am your prisoner," she said incredulously.

"Correction," said the Dark Lord, wagging a finger. "I cannot see any chains on you and you look very healthy to me. My apprentices have just taken you out on a trip, and you have been given the chance to ride on your own, to wander about. I did not place such great trust in you; but my apprentices did. They do not know the world, for they have grown up in the Temple. They know only the Dark side and me. They knew that a promise is a serious thing and since you have given yours, they thought you would keep it. What does that say about the Dark side, or about me?"

"The summoning of the light side through the Dark side is difficult," he said, watching her. "But it is not impossible. It requires great effort. What do I want from you in return? I want you to give your oath to the Dark side. You have to, if you want to learn how to do this, because the Dark side does not know you now. It does not know your name, nor does it know the name of your master. Therefore, one wrong move and it might destroy you. You need to pledge your allegiance to it and accept it; only then you can learn."

Larynthe's heart pounded in her throat. She was certain that the Jedi Order would not be too thrilled if she gave an oath to the Dark side. But she did not believe they would kill her. If this was possible, that she might re-train herself in the light side, perhaps it was worth the effort. Perhaps even… accepting the Dark side. She felt like screaming at the very thought, but she began to realise that there was no other way out. She might live on as she lived for the past many weeks, but if she died… she would be left torn between two sides of the Force. Normally she would have had a nervous breakdown at a time like this, she would have thrown a tantrum or screamed herself hoarse, but she could not. She felt emotionally drained and tired.

"I can promise that," she said quietly, in a trembling voice. "But if you understand me so well, then you know how much I yearn for the light side. If you could… a little… bring it closer to me… I would feel so much better."

"Yearning is a very dangerous thing," said the Dark Lord slowly, but not without satisfaction in his voice. "You will learn that neither of my apprentices feel the desire for anything. Perhaps it sounds strange and horrible, but it is indeed so."

"Very well," he said, getting to his feet, as she was inwardly laughing at this, not believing that a human being could exist without desires, but then remembering with a pang they were not human. "I shall put an end to your doubts and your worries. I shall honour my promise, once again."

He smiled a little at the look of expectation on Larynthe's face which was suddenly glowing and looked more alive, more radiant. She sat bolt upright and watched as the Dark Lord environed his table, approaching her. She felt chill in her stomach as he approached her, pausing sheer before her. Now… she would know.

The Dark side rushed at the Dark Lord, enveloping him, swirling around him, until it formed a powerful twirl. But then it suddenly paused. It felt as though it was frozen in time, hovering expectant and ready, ready for his orders. And through the Dark curtain appeared a ray of light and extended, growing in its size and strength, until the whole room was filled with it. This was it, she thought, tears sliding down her cheeks, gasping in delight and shivering with her whole body. The beauty of it, the comforting hands of the light side, the quiet strength and gentle caresses – she was home.

It lasted for perhaps five beautiful minutes, during which she cried and cried, silent tears of regret and relief flowing down her cheeks, feeling as though she had been allowed to open her eyes after a very long period of blindness. And then it disappeared, swallowed by the twirl of the Dark side, which was soon gone as well. She opened her eyes.

"Now do you believe it, poor Jedi?" whispered the Dark Lord, staring down at her. "I have shown you what you have yearned for. Now it is time for you to fulfil your promise."

"I shall," she whispered, still trembling of joy. "I shall accept the Dark side, if I can learn how to do this."

"That depends on your efforts and hard work," said the Dark Lord, the corners of his mouth twitching. "There can be no 'ifs' or 'buts'. You must be certain about your decision."

"I shall," she said a little louder.

"Kneel before me," he said.

Larynthe did not need to be told twice. She slid off her chair and sank down to her one knee. She had only done this on the ceremony of the severing of her braid, when she became an apprentice. But she knew that the two Sith knelt all the time before the Dark Lord, which seemed to be some kind of a greeting among them. She stared at his feet.

"Tomorrow morning you shall go to the library – my apprentices shall pick you up – and you shall begin your study of the Sith language. You need to know it, at least superficially, to be able to partake in the Ceremony of the Birth. At that Ceremony, you shall be presented to the Dark side, and you shall swear your allegiance to it. Then it shall know you. Follow the instructions my apprentices give you. You may rely fully on them. They may not be thrilled with the idea of you working with them, as that would mean that Lady Tarralyanna would lose her favourite pet, but it is my will, and they shall honour it, as they always have. Now you may go."

Larynthe got to her feet, watching the Dark Lord turn away from her and walk back to his table, whereas she headed for the door, her head buzzing with thoughts. What had she done? She betrayed the Jedi Order with this gesture; she denounced all that she was; she became the very thing she swore she would never be and the thought of accepting the Dark side filled her with dread. But her desire to come back to the right side and die with it, was stronger than anything and she readily gave this sacrifice.

ooooooooooooooooooo

The night which followed was filled with terrible dreams once again. Larynthe had been running away both from the Jedi and from the Sith. When she woke up for the last time, the giant sun just looming up on the horizon, she noted that she was trembling and felt as though she was falling ill. She ate everything Peetah brought to her, glancing surreptitiously at her, as though she knew what happened. The two usually engaged in pleasant conversations most of the time and Larynthe grew to like the old Malaskian. However, just as she was finishing her breakfast, having exchanged only a few words with the Malaskian, Lady Tarralyanna appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a deep frown and an ugly look of contempt on her normally beautiful, inhuman face. So, Larynthe thought, her Master told her everything. Dressed in a wide, black dress, her sapphire eyes, which were glinting with malice, came as an unexpected contrast.

"Are you done with that?" she asked sharply, pointing at Larynthe's breakfast. Larynthe nodded quickly. Tarralyanna beckoned her, obviously too annoyed with the development of matter to use words, and Larynthe quickly followed her.

The library was a high-ceilinged, circular room, with bookshelves leaning against every wall. There were two tables there and behind one sat Lord Tammutyen, holding a quill, a large sketch of Droddian anatomy before him. He cast a murderous glance at Larynthe as she entered and she felt her blood run cold. As much fun as they had in playing around with her and treating her with superiority, now they were forced to allow her enter their own territory, as it was the will of their Master. Although Tarralyanna, if not Tammutyen, could understand why the Dark Lord had done this and why he was so interested in Larynthe, she still did not like it.

"Here," said Tarralyanna in a voice of forced calm, placing a large, tattered book before Larynthe, whom she dragged to the other table and forced her to sit down. "And here." She placed an ink bottle in front of her along with an old quill. "Start by drawing the glyphs – it takes a lot of practice. Then move on to pronunciation. Ask us if you have questions."

She turned away from her, looking everything but eager to answer any questions, but knowing she had to, and dropped to a seat beside Lord Tammutyen, pulling out a roll of parchment. She stretched it across her half of the table with the help of a few book holders and resumed her calculations. Larynthe stole a glance of her work and saw that the parchment was filled with curly, neat Sith glyphs. The sketch seemed to be an astronomical model of the twin sun system. Why would a Sith be interested in astronomy?

Larynthe opened the book carefully and placed a hand on the first page. Glyphs – rather than letters – were sixty in number, she found. The Sith differentiated between the long 's' and the short 's'; there was a difference between the letter 'p' if used in combination with 'h' and if alone; and guttural sounds such as 'hah' or 'th' had their own glyphs to represent them. Filling the parchment with Sith glyphs, she wondered where all this was going. As it were, it almost seemed that the Dark Lord was very good to her, if he was allowing her to do this. However, it was pretty obvious what his apprentices thought about it. Of course they obeyed; but they could not hide their displeasure when he was not around. This, perhaps, filled Larynthe with a strange feeling of vengeance; she felt satisfaction by knowing she hit them where it hurt the most. They were most certainly very proud creatures and were very proud of their Sith heritage – and this was a heavy blow, allowing someone like Larynthe to take a peek into their world. By the time she got to page eight, she was seriously gloating.

But why did she need to partake in this ceremony, or whatever it was? Was her promise not good enough? They did not make such a fuss over everything at the Jedi Temple. One would receive his or her robes, get presented before the Council, a teacher would be assigned to him or her, and that would be that. This ceremony was apparently in Sith; and it occurred to Larynthe that perhaps the reason that the ceremony was so important to the Dark Lord was because then he might have power over her, that it was a trap of some sort. Well, Larynthe needed no traps to be trapped by the Dark side. For it had already been done – all she could sense was the Dark side and she wanted to learn what the Dark Lord showed her. Her wish to do so was sincere, and trap or no trap, she would do it.

"G…Th'Plath," muttered Larynthe to herself, trying to read. She was using a large legend of the glyphs and their pronunciation she made for herself and was now trying to read with it beside her. She exhaled in annoyance. She felt as though her tongue was being split in two. A strange parallel with snakes, she thought with a bitter laugh – they might speak it better than I do.

"G'Th'Plaath," said Lord Tammutyen, blotting his sketch and rolling it up with an expression of cold indifference on his face. "The 'a' is long. It is the basic difference between the Anh and the Amu glyph. One is a short 'a', and the other one a long 'a'."

"I see," said Larynthe very quietly, not wishing to disturb Lady Tarralyanna, who was poring over her calculations with her finger on her lips. "How do I differentiate between Geh and Gonh, Lord Tammutyen?"

"Well," he said quietly, getting to his feet and approaching her, pulling down his robes as he did so, "Geh is a guttural, gurgling sound. And Gonh is similar to the Albinian letter 'g'."

"Aha," said Larynthe, now understanding, "And the glyph Geh is a sort of an article or gender or something? I have seen many words beginning with Geh."

"Indeed," said Lord Tammutyen, lifting an eyebrow.

From what he had seen and heard, he did not get the impression that she was intelligent, like Lady Tarralyanna claimed, but she seemed to be very mindful of details, very discerning, and she surprised him with this observation. He sat down on her table, to her horror, and picked up her book, lifting it to see what was it that she was trying to read and pointed his finger at a sentence at the top of the page.

"Read this to me," he said commandingly.

Larynthe caught the book nervously and stared at the line he pointed at. His very presence was enough to drain her mind of all useful information she might have assimilated in the past few hours. She read, quietly, feeling her tongue slowly going numb while he corrected her, sitting on her table and staring at her without blinking. It was certainly very unnerving when he stared at her like that.

"All right," he said at last, getting up. "You go on with that and remember what I warned you about."

Larynthe's mind was swimming after three hours of such work and yet the two Sith sat at their table, not talking. Lord Tammutyen was smoking eagerly and filling the library with very thick and fragrant smoke, a long pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth as he flipped through books and checked facts he needed for his sketch. Larynthe knew better than to ask him whether she could open a window and thus sat with her robes over her nose, reading on and on, until she thought her mind could not take it any more, glyphs dancing before her eyes. She got to her feet and headed in the direction of the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Lady Tarralyanna in a very sharp tone.

"I… er, to my room," said Larynthe, adjusting her Jedi cloak. "To rest for a while."

"Rest?" echoed Tarralyanna, lifting her thin eyebrow. "You have been studying for three hours only; your mind does not need rest yet. Continue."

She got back to her calculations, ignoring her, whereas Larynthe slowly headed back to her table, frowning.

"It might interest you," said Lady Tarralyanna, as though by the way, scribbling very fast. "That our Master gave us the permission to punish you in any way we might think of as fitting, if you declined to do what he told you to."

Some time later, Larynthe got up and made her way to the bathroom. It was a strange cube-shaped room in one corner of the library, which had clearly been built there because the two Sith seemed to spend hours and hours in the library. On her way there Larynthe glanced over a few thicker volumes on the shelf closest to her. It never occurred to her that the Sith actually read books and when the Dark Lord said library, she thought it would merely be a room with tables. Among many books in Sith and Sith scriptures, there were three books written in Albinian and they looked very old and used. 'History of the Jedi Order' was one of the titles and Larynthe looked at it with interest. 'The Caelian Doctrine' was the title of the thick brown book beside it and the third one was titled 'Basics of Droddian Language', written by a Caelian priest who travelled around the world and studied all languages. He was quite famous and Larynthe recognised his name with ease. They learned Droddian, too, she thought as she entered the bathroom, feeling Lady Tarralyanna's glance burning a hole on her back? Larynthe vaguely wondered whether she might tell her off for idling. Why were there studying other languages? If Sith was their native language – so they said – how come they were fluent in Albinian? All right, they sometimes used Sith words for things, as they could not remember the Albinian ones, and they often cursed in Sith. Larynthe already learned how to distinguish between Lady Tarralyanna's favourite exclamations spoken in Sith and Albinian. Speaking Sith gave her the impression that her tongue was going to tie up in a knot, if she kept to it. So horribly hard to pronounce, it was nothing compared to the actual nuances in the glyphs which made the entire meaning of a word different.

She studied so long she felt quite sick. Lord Tammutyen visited her three more times, each time asking her to read to him and correcting her.

"I have already corrected you on that particular word twice," he said, staring at her in disbelief, not understanding how it was possible for someone to make the same mistake three times in a row. "Was it not enough? Write down your mistake. And remember it, for Darkness' sake!"

Of course Larynthe was making mistakes – she felt exhausted. By the time the Sith were done with their work and decided that it had been enough, she was having a splitting headache.

"You may go to your room now," said Lady Tarralyanna, tying up her cloak and glancing over her coldly. "And study again from your notes once you have regenerated yourself." She smirked as she said this. "As a matter of fact, you may bring the book with you. There is very little time and much for you to learn. You shall be interrogated tomorrow. The Dark Lord wishes you to advance as quickly as possible."

She turned away from her and left the library with Lord Tammutyen. Larynthe did not need telling twice and quickly made her way back to her room, where she fell on her bed, exhausted.

She continued memorising the glyphs in the afternoon, after she had a nap, and was pacing the room, muttering to herself and trying to remember Lord Tammutyen's pronunciation. The more she learned Sith, the less she liked it. She gazed absently through the window, thinking about the mess she got herself into, at what she saw something moving beyond the walls of the Temple. She could see the tall, strong figure of Lord Tammutyen and she looked more closely, intrigued. He was running, wearing his shirt and pants only, despite of the cold, and his face was shining with sweat in the scanty light of Luth. He ran toward a log, jumped over it with ease, and then continued running, to finally disappear behind a small mound. Larynthe believed that he was being chased – perhaps by his Master? But why was he not using the Force to run faster, then?

Just as she was trying to decide on whether he was actually allowed to run away from the Dark Lord, another figure appeared, following a different path. Her legs moving under her with ease, Lady Tarralyanna gave away the impression of great agility and endurance. She certainly seemed to run faster than Lord Tammutyen. She darted past the wall and disappeared out of sight, her glance fixed on the ground before her. Larynthe furrowed her brow, but she had no time or mental capacity, as the Sith called it, to ponder the matter further.

Sitting so and studying, Larynthe's mind kept processing everything that happened. She thought about her decision and about its consequences. Peetah would not bring her food any time soon. There were no late dinners in the Sith Temple, she found, and there were two meals instead of six, which was why she tried to eat as much as she could for lunch so that she would not be hungry in the evening. Certain she would be alone for quite some time, Larynthe tried reaching out for the Force once again. The Dark side felt like a thousand raging voices, threatening her, filling her with dread. It was powerful, yes, she realised that now. But it was so wild, so horrible in its essence, that it seemed quite impossible that she would ever be able to control something like that. "Your mind is weak," she remembered Lord Tammutyen telling her that very morning, bringing himself into her face, his dark eyes flashing at her. "Harness it. Command it!"

Thus only now Larynthe began to understand why Lady Tarralyanna was always dissecting everything and could distance herself away from even those issues that concerned her deeply, either existentially or emotionally. The Dark Lord had them train their minds in this, in this non-attachment to everything, in this inhuman discipline. Only now Larynthe was faced with her own weakness and she was surprised with this, because she never noticed it was there.

Her legs yearned for a walk and as she was allowed to go anywhere she wanted as long as she remained on the grounds of the Temple, she decided to go to the solarium, where she and Lady Tarralyanna used to sit, and perhaps catch a little bit of sunlight. She counted the number of times she turned right or left, as there was no other way to find a room in the Temple. All corridors looked exactly the same and all doors were black. Wherever she went silent, long corridors stretched before her, but here and there there were fountains or plaques which she used as pointers. However, either something had been recently moved or Larynthe had not been paying enough attention, and before she knew it, she found herself in an unfamiliar corridor, trying to remember from which direction she came. It was pointless. In this part of the Temple there were no sword collections, plaques, statues or fountains. She tried to retrace her steps and take a different turn, hoping that this was the place where she lost her way. Suddenly she found herself standing before a life-sized stone statue of a Sith with an axe in his hand and she stared at it. She had never seen it before and she looked around herself once she managed to tear her glance away from the strangely life-like look of rage on the Sith's chiselled face. The corridor ahead of her was quiet, but she could hear the faint sound of trickling water. She remembered Lady Tarralyanna telling her that the Temple was built over the stream which passed through this mountain range and that it flowed straight through the Temple. Thus, if she followed its sound, she should get to the main gate, she reasoned.

She followed the sound, finding herself standing before a billowing curtain. She heard voices and she could not mistake them for the life of her. Intrigued, thinking at the same time that she was not acting like a Jedi, for a Jedi would have distanced himself away instantly and would not be poking his nose in matters which were none of his business and which might mean endanger his objective, she approached the curtain and pushed it gently aside. This turned out to be another solarium, as there were a few tall plants growing all over the balcony which overlooked something that resembled a water garden. And down below she could see Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen. Larynthe shrank back into the shadow of a large tree, and, hidden behind its plate-sized leaves, stared at them.

Lady Tarralyanna was standing with her feet in water, as there was a fountain spitting out water all over the little pool in which the two Sith were standing. She seemed to be naked; but Larynthe could not see much, except for her head and one arm, for she was completely obscured from sight by the large figure of Lord Tammutyen. He was propping himself against the black marble wall and was leaning forward, a black towel wrapped around his waist. His tattooed back was half-turned to Larynthe and the tattoo of a dragon moved as though it was alive as he lifted his hand.

The heat and moisture in the air were unbearable, but Larynthe persisted, wishing to see what was going to happen. Lady Tarralyanna twined her arms around his neck and kissed him. Lord Tammutyen kissed her passionately back for a few moments, after what he suddenly pushed her against the wall, with an expression of anger fleeting across his pale face. She gripped him a little tighter, closing her eyes while he savagely kissed her neck. Her long, muscular legs were now visible to Larynthe and Larynthe could not remember ever seeing such long legs. It did however explain her agility and her obvious talent for running. The two Sith parted and drew a few quick breaths, as it seemed that this savage kissing session left them without air. His large hand caressed her naked shoulder and slowly slid down her side, ending on her thigh.

Slowly, his hand found hers and he pulled it away, staring down at it with an almost hungry look on his face. He looked up at her. Lady Tarralyanna smiled at him, nodding. It seemed they were speaking through the Dark side. There was a wild, mad glint in her eyes as she looked at him, something that both surprised and sacred Larynthe. Yes, she had seen passion before, she had seen love in people's eyes, but this was something else. It was the same look she gave Larynthe when she challenged her in the volcanic land of Gnath. It was something close to madness, she thought; and yet, her eyes, which were normally cold and calm, never seemed more alive.

Lord Tammutyen leaned over her and forcefully pressed his lips on her wrist. Lady Tarralyanna breathed in deeply, throwing her head aback and closing her eyes. Something silver – her blood – trickled down her hand but Lord Tammutyens lips remained pressed firmly against her pale skin. Larynthe withdrew deeper into the shadows, not believing her eyes and wishing to get away from there as fast as she could, to forget what she saw, to force the sight of them out of her head. He seemed to be very cruel with her, but she also seemed to enjoy it and return the favour. Is this the Sith's idea of a relationship? Was it possible that he was... drinking her blood? If they were not human, Larynthe thought as she wandered the Temple, what were they?


	28. Chapter 27 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXVII - Sanctuary

Lady Tarralyanna stood by the window of the solarium with a towel in her hand. The trickling of water was the only audible sound and her pale face reflected the red water behind her as she leaned forward with interest. Larynthe the Jedi was now wandering through the courtyard, her Jedi cloak dragging after her and pausing by the small, fenced pond, where Lord Tammutyen's pet reptiles were splashing around in the water.

"Look at her… she does not belong here," said Lady Tarralyanna quietly.

The naked Lord Tammutyen approached her, dabbing his tattooed chest with a paste, as he recently had his Master make another for him. He looked over her shoulder and watched the Jedi for a few moments, before looking away.

"I cannot understand why Master would have wanted her to take the Ceremony if he did not want to take her as his apprentice," she went on, her face shadowed by worry. Then she turned to look at her brother and her expression softened. "But whatever it is that he plans, we need to accept it. I just wish he would have shared it with us."

"The Jedi must be important to him," he said thoughtfully. "How many Jedi can say that they attract the Dark side without meaning to? It does not normally pay any attention to the non-Sith, like the light side pays attention to all those sensitive enough to feel it. The Dark side chooses its servants; and it does not choose the weak."

"But she _is_ weak," said Tarralyanna. "I am not certain how the Ceremony is going to affect her. But, for what it is worth," she turned away for a moment to look back at Larynthe, who was now leaning over the fence and grinning, watching the baby reptiles who were thrashing about in the water and enjoying the sun. "I know for one Master intended us to attend the Ceremony as well."

Her brother lifted an eyebrow at her and started brushing his long hair.

"A picture of it fleeted across his mind, when it was accessible, at one point," said Tarralyanna seriously.

She was a preying hawk when it came to her Master's thoughts. He never forbade them to listen to them, but then again, he did not make them accessible to them very often either. It seemed that he either wanted Tarralyanna to see this, or he was testing her Force sensitivity. But Tarralyanna was always ready to take the opportunity, if it presented itself before her.

"But she is better off here, than out there, if she had visions of me," Tarralyanna continued her monologue. "The more with the fact she attracts the Dark side… she should be here, although she does not belong here."

"Do you believe," he asked, putting on his underwear, "that she would make a good Sith?"

Tarralyanna stared at the figure wearing a Jedi cloak, which was now laughing at the baby reptiles as they played in the water, rolling over on their backs to float and then jump atop of each other to chase all around the pond. They were too small yet to be agile and to keep their balance.

"Anger is a good start," she said slowly. "And she has great stores of it. She is a nest of incongruence, but also that of troubled experiences, traumas and fears. All that can help her in her growth in the Dark side. But… I rather doubt her readiness. I doubt her courage. She likes the world too much, to be able to denounce it for the sake of the Dark side. She is too attached… to everything around her."

"I respect her, for what she is trying to do," Tarralyanna went on. Of course, Larynthe's intentions have been quite clear to the Sith, though she chose not to remark on them. "And I think she is very intelligent." He snorted in disbelief. "Yes, she is, Tammutyen. Because as unable she is to understand some things we take as straightforward and normal, we also cannot understand some things about her. We excuse ourselves by saying that it is not important and that it is a Jedi thing. But we should not be too quick to judge her and despise her for her ignorance. There is a great source of knowledge in her ignorance; it tells us about her fears, her hopes and her complex, human feelings; it tells us what are her strengths and what are her weaknesses."

"She is afraid of the Dark side and its power," said Lord Tammutyen, straightening up in his full size, putting his shirt on. "Her fear is written all over her."

"But she would not be thinking about it, if she was not attracted to it," said Lady Tarralyanna, turning to him. "She thinks about the Dark side very often."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Throughout the next week, Larynthe learned a lot about the Sith's schedule and what they were doing during their usual working days. When she managed to ask Lady Tarralyanna, who had been strangely distant during all of her encounters with her and always stared at her as though studying her, dissecting her every wave of hand, what was driving Larynthe mad, what they did in their free time, she seemed to be puzzled with the question. However, despite of how distant she seemed lately, she would always welcome a conversation with her.

"What falls in the category of free time, Jedi Larynthe?" she asked her.

Larynthe was too used to her ignorance concerning simple things to be startled with this question and thought for a moment how to answer.

"Music, dancing, going out, socialising with people," she said. From her own definition she could see that the latter could immediately be ruled out.

"I have coffee with you from time to time," said the Sith promptly.

"Yes, but other than that," said Larynthe persistently. "When your master gives you leave, what do you do?"

"On the last day of the week brother and I go for a walk round the mountains," said the Sith, leaning aback. "That is, if we want to. But we work all other days of the week."

"You do not sit on the terrace, for instance, and gaze at the stars?" asked Larynthe, remembering she used to do this when she was little, thinking how much she missed her family, about the Jedi Order and the honour she had been given by becoming a Jedi.

"Yes, but as field work for my astronomy studies," said the Sith.

Larynthe sighed. She began to believe that they indeed had no idea what free time was.

"You do not listen to music?" she asked, hoping that someone as educated in all fields as Lady Tarralyanna (what Lady Tarralyanna considered as something to be expected, whereas Larynthe was startled with the fact) would appreciate the art of music.

"To just sit and listen to it?" asked the Sith, laughing, "What a waste of time!"

"Well, what do you do in the evening, then? You meditate, and? I know you meditate in the evening," Larynthe persisted. She knew that the Sith would answer her questions because she was studying her lifestyle and her beliefs.

"At times brother and I meet in our shared bedroom and spend the night together," said the Sith without blinking twice. Larynthe swallowed her tea and gaped at her.

"To… talk? Play games?" asked Larynthe, fearing the worst and regretting she asked this question.

"We talk," said the Sith, giving a wicked smile. "Games? Oh, yes. We often play hide and seek; whoever finds the other one gets to do whatever he or she wants. As long as there is no profound blood loss, of course."

Now Larynthe positively flushed and stared down at her feet, trying to force the images that appeared in her mind out of it, but without success.

"Why are your cheeks all red?" asked the Sith, leaning forward and peering with interest into her face. "Explain yourself."

Now Larynthe knew for certain that the Sith could not understand she was embarrassed, and what was more, that she could not fathom out why. She exhaled in annoyance.

"Are you always this subtle?" she asked, with a note of anger in her voice, which seemed to excite Lady Tarralyanna. Larynthe presumed that the Dark side reacted to her anger. "Do you not never get embarrassed?"

"So that is the emotion which is behind the bodily reaction!" exclaimed the Sith, looking as though she just realised something extremely important. "Yes, I see. Anatomy is Lord Tammutyen's field of expertise; I know only the basis of it. Why this emotion, Jedi Larynthe? What I said does not involve you." Larynthe looked as though she wanted nothing more but to fling that ashtray of hers into her pretty head. The Sith laughed, amused with her reaction. "I want you to explain it to me, now."

This second clear order could not be ignored and Larynthe drew a deep, steadying breath, before she answered.

"What you do with your brother is none of my business," she said, now revealing to the Sith that she had been watching them in the solarium, as a picture of what she saw fleeted across her mind and the Sith easily caught it, what resulted in a mysterious, amused smile on her pale face. "And I merely wanted to know what is it that you do in your free time. Not all the brutal games you two play."

The Sith was now positively beaming at her and she leaned aback, her hands crossed on her chest, staring at her with a look of satisfaction on her face.

"How come it never happened? You know... That you got pregnant?" she asked before the Sith could start explaining in depth what was it actually that she and Lord Tammutyen did when they were alone.

Lady Tarralyanna's eyes were round with surprise; but the following moment she smiled again, seeing what Larynthe was aiming at.

"Oh, procreation," she said, waving a hand airily. "There is no such thing for a Sith."

"Yes, I do realise you would be forbidden to have children, but I am wondering how come it never happened? I mean, you _are_ female, are you not?"

"I daresay I am," said Lady Tarralyanna, apparently immensely enjoying this discussion. "Master once told us that he took care of it while we were children."

"Took care of it, how?" asked Larynthe.

"Well, I would hazard a guess that he foresaw what might happen with two children growing up together and that he made certain that neither Lord Tammutyen nor I could ever be troubled with this burden."

"You believe it would be a burden?" asked Larynthe quietly, staring at her with sympathy and realising that he must have either removed her womb, if she had one, or made her barren in some other way. What he did to Lord Tammutyen... Well, she did not want to think about that.

"You do not, Jedi Larynthe?" asked Tarralyanna softly, lighting a cigarette and leaning forward with it in her hand. "That one has to care of something, to sacrifice his life and fate in order to raise a child? That is for common people, for people who find meaning in their lives by procreating. My life already has a meaning and I have a destiny to fulfil. I need no distractions and I would most certainly never have the time to do something like that."

"You know," said Larynthe bitterly, "there are times I feel sorry for you."

"And there are times I feel sorry for you, too, Jedi Larynthe," said the Sith, nodding seriously. "I pity you for your ignorance, for your incongruence, for your fears and phobias that control you rather than the other way round, for your emotionality and for your lack of control even over your own flesh and blood."

"And I pity you for your coldness and heartlessness, for your lack of humanness and sensitivity, blindness to simple joys of life and ignorance of everyday things, everyday habits, that make a human being a human being," said Larynthe.

"But you forget," said Tarralyanna, laughing again. "I am not human. I am a Sith."

"So you keep reminding me," said Larynthe, frowning. "But apart from the colour of your eyes and hair, I can see nothing else which might be considered as inhuman."

"I do not know myself what I am. I only know I have not been born on Horukaan," said the Sith, beaming.

She slowly lifted her sad'khai and showed Larynthe her flat belly with a snake tattooed all over it. Larynthe, who saw it only once and that while duelling her, realised at once that she had not been wrong. She had no navel.

"And your brother?" whispered Larynthe, staring at her belly.

"Oh, Tammutyen used to be human all right," said the Sith, lowering her shirt. "He used to be Albinian, as a matter of fact."

"What happened?" asked Larynthe.

"He was dying," said Tarralyanna simply, her tone not matching her words. This was something extraordinary, thought Larynthe. The Sith could talk about death and torture so easily, as though they were talking about tea varieties, and at first it revolted Larynthe, but now it simply fascinated her. "And Master decided for him. He wanted him to live to serve the Dark side and to become a powerful Sith. Thus he saved his life."

"No one can resurrect people from the dead," said Larynthe, not believing her story. But the sapphire eyes of the Sith twinkled with sincerity. She did not know the meaning of free time; she could not believe that someone could break a promise; and she could not lie.

"My Master is the Dark Lord of the Sith," she said in a dangerous voice, as though Larynthe just insulted him. "He has such power. You do not believe it? You have seen him summon your precious light side and you did not believe it, either. Why can you not believe this?"

"How? How did he do it?" whispered Larynthe, thinking fast.

"I do not know whether I am allowed to tell you," said Tarralyanna, eyeing her suspiciously. "And I do not want Master to throw daggers at me for betrayal. I would rather have Tammutyen do that."

ooooooooooooooooo

The following morning the two Sith were getting ready for their training in the hall when the door suddenly opened. They were just about to get down to their knees, believing it was the Dark Lord, when they sensed it was someone else. Lady Tarralyanna looked up. Larynthe was standing quietly by the door, wearing her Jedi robes and nervously glancing around herself.

"What are you doing here?" barked Tammutyen.

"I do not know myself, Lord Tammutyen," she replied in a quiet voice, closing the door behind her, "He… he told me to come."

"He? You mean our Master?" asked Tarralyanna, giving Tammutyen a punch on the shoulder to prevent him from throwing himself at the Jedi. Larynthe quickly nodded. The two stared at her, but at length they decided they would soon get their answer anyway and started stretching on the floor.

It was not long before they got their answer. The Dark Lord arrived in a swift pace, telling his apprentices they should begin. They retreated to a corner of the hall, adjusting their weapons and glancing toward Larynthe wearing dark expressions.

"You shall join my apprentices today," said the Dark Lord to Larynthe. "And you shall use one of their swords. Choose one which resembles your old sword. I shall watch – to decide on your choice of weapon."

The two Sith were left speechless. If he was choosing the right weapon for her, then this meant he would be accepting her as his apprentice. They started training aggressively, venting their confusion and resentment. The thought that Larynthe might become one of them was unbearable.

The Dark Lord seated himself in his usual corner and watched the two as they performed their b'daars while Larynthe, having chosen a sword that resembled her old Jalá sword best, stood uncertainly a few feet away from him, turning it over in her hands.

"What is it, that you want me to do?" she asked quietly. The Dark Lord looked lazily at her and glanced over the sword she chose.

"To practise as you have practised with your sword while in the Jedi Temple," he said. "I want you to give your best, despite of the fact that it had been a very long time since you have done this. And I shall watch."

Larynthe chose a secluded corner where she would not bother the two angry Sith, who were now spinning like mad, and there got to work. It was very strange; the Dark side booming all around her was giving her a strange boost, helping her in the meaning that her movements were faster and more precise. But she had forgotten one important thing. Of course, she practised automatically, having done it most of her childhood and her adult life, and she did not think about the exercises she was doing. However, by the time she got to the Force manipulation exercises – which the Sith never did, or at least she had never seen them at it – she did not know what to do. She had completely forgotten about this. There was no light side to manipulate. She looked toward the Dark Lord surreptitiously, and thought about it. She could bungle a little and pretend that she could not summon the Dark side all too well, or she could tell him that she could not work with the Dark side straight away. What would be his reaction? Fear pervaded her at the very sight of his long, white fingers which rested on the arms of his chair, his hood turned in the direction of the two Sith.

He spoke to Lord Tammutyen, who was just leaving the centre of the hall with his Ptah in his hand; for a few moments he spoke in Sith to him, lifting his hand a little to indicate a spiralling movement, the hissing, gurgling words rolling out of his mouth without pause, while Lord Tammutyen stared at him, his pale face expressionless, listening and nodding. When the Dark Lord said what he wanted to say, indicating he was done with a wave of his forefinger and middle finger in Tammutyen's direction, Tammutyen bowed to him and left the centre, passing by Lady Tarralyanna without looking at her. She stepped forward with her chin high, adjusting her sad'khai aggressively, a look of silent rage frozen on her inhuman face. She got into position, her hands hanging by her sides, her glance directed at the adjacent wall, the spheres of her Saragon resting on the floor.

Fear got the better of Larynthe as she watched this, that aura of cold rage choking her. Despite of herself, she decided to try to use the Dark side. After all, she would need to learn to control it, in order to be able to achieve what the Dark Lord showed her. She spread her senses and began with her Force exercises. To her, the Dark side was like a wild beast, its power impossible to be restrained and used, its destructiveness overwhelming. It either did something completely unexpected or it did not obey her at all. At some point, it turned back upon her and fear and panic overwhelmed her like a throttling wave which spilled over her. She yelped and fell down on her back, gasping for breath, eyes wide with terror. The Dark Lord looked at her with pity.

"That will do," he said, looking away and waving a careless hand. "I have seen enough. You may go to the library now and continue your language studies."

Larynthe put back the sword where she found it and left the hall, feeling relieved. But something worried her, even though she left the two angry Sith and the Dark Lord back in that hall. He sounded very contemptuous when he addressed her. Larynthe supposed that her own efforts were ridiculous when compared to the two Sith, who moved so fast that one could barely see any arms or legs, only an occasional glint of metal. If he expected her to rise to their level, he could wait until hell freezes over, because Larynthe was certain she could never do it. She had never seen anything like it and they fighting style was something unique and something she could not understand.

Her troubled mind was not at all in the right state for the assimilation of knowledge and Larynthe caught herself staring at her book without seeing it on a number of occasions. The next moment, realising she was wasting time and that her mind was wandering, she started frantically memorising Sith words. Just as she was finished writing her first twenty sentences in Sith and was considering what she might do next, whether she would dare to read the books in Albinian about the Jedi Order, the Dark Lord made an appearance in the library. He was carrying a scroll in his hands, which he placed on Larynthe's table, quickly glancing over her work. Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen were not there.

"This is a sketch of the M'Hoor," he said, standing over her and unrolling the parchment.

Larynthe stared at his hand – it was the first time she had seen it from up close. There were a few wrinkles here and there, but other than that, it seemed to be the hand of a person in its thirties. However, there was something almost inhuman and eerie about the whiteness and flawlessness of his skin. It was without blemish; hairless; without the usual different shades of skin, which would be considered as natural. The very word 'unnatural' provoked strange, tingling fear within her, even as her mind kept reminding her that this was the hand of the Dark Lord of the Sith. Several moments passed before she managed to focus on the reality and realised that the Dark Lord was showing her a sketch of a sword. Not just any sword.

"It is a traditional Sith weapon," said the Dark Lord. "And it shall be your weapon of choice. If you have seen Lord Tammutyen's Ptah, then you will notice it is rather similar to it, in its construction and essence. But, it is perfect for your constitution and for your abilities. You shall begin constructing it today. My apprentices shall show you how this is done – and I want you to devote your full time and attention to it. Meditate on it, as you have done prior to the construction of your Jalá sword. It shall be an extension of your hands, your most trusted ally, apart from the Dark side, and it needs to look exactly how you believe it should. The dimensions can be changed – but the proportions must remain the same. The Sith of old had their reasons for choosing these particular proportions and you must trust them. You may change the hilt and the appearance of blades, however."

"Why do I need to make it?" Larynthe asked, despite of herself.

"Because I want you to," said the Dark Lord simply.

He turned away from her and left the library, not looking back. Larynthe leaned aback in her chair, exhaling in relief once he was gone. After a few moments of staring into void, she picked up the sketch and stared at it. It was without doubt the most unusual weapon she had ever seen. What did she get herself into?

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

She met a grumpy, angry-looking Lord Tammutyen who led her to the smithy, a dark room situated in the dungeons of the Temple, containing many cauldrons, basins and fireplaces, with tools like long tongs and pokers lying on the rough wooden tables blackened with use. He stayed there with her while she was making the blades for her sword, to supervise her work. He gave her with a bar of excellent steel and watched her sweat as she angrily forged the blades.

"That is well," he said quietly. "Your anger is attracting the Dark side and your sword shall be a product of it."

Larynthe cursed under her breath – she could not help herself. She swung repeatedly with the large hammer at the glowing piece of metal she had just taken out of the fire. When it cooled down, she picked up the tongs, turning to the grumpy Sith who sat in the corner of the room and smoked, watching her every move. Her hair adhered to her forehead and her hands were covered in soot.

"I do not know why I am doing this," she breathed, trying to calm down, but it was impossible. The Dark side approved of her anger and was swirling around her as though teasing her to produce more.

"You have given a promise to the Dark Lord," said Lord Tammutyen. "And a promise is a promise."

"Well, I am beginning to regret it," she said, dipping the blade into the water basin. It emitted a loud hissing sound and a grey cloud of smoke rose high over Larynthe's head.

"One Sith virtue which you might choose to admire," said Lord Tammutyen lazily, "is devotion and dedication to one's cause. It sounds very pretty, I am sure, and awe-inspiring; but the point is to persevere, to keep to one's promise even in the hardest of moments, when one is tempted, tested and probed for loyalty. Under the concept of loyalty I do not just mean loyalty to the Dark side; but also loyalty to yourself, to your own principles and ideals. If you have chosen to do this, for your own reasons and convictions, then you should have the strength to endure all, in order to achieve your goal."

"You have never disobeyed your master, Lord Tammutyen?" asked Larynthe, thinking how it would be nice if she could sit down for a moment, but then realising that the Sith would probably not allow it.

"I have been young and foolish, of course," he said, shrugging his massive shoulders. "But I am proud of what I have been through and am not ashamed of it. All of my trials – crumbling under too heavy burdens, under too much training, under too hard work – all of that served as a forging tool, just like the one you hold in your hand." He pointed at her hammer. "It has forged me into what I am now and made me incomparably stronger."

"You think so?" asked Larynthe, propping herself against her hip and staring at him with a derisive smile on her face. "Do you not think it weakened you? Do you not think you might have become so much stronger and wiser if you have not tormented yourself?"

"There are lines which we need to cross, boundaries we need to break through," he said, not believing her ignorance. "And we cannot accomplish this by being slaves to our passions and desires. To take the Ceremony of Coming, one needs to rise above the flesh and blood and master them. Then one can become something much more."

oooooooooooooooooo

"I need to sit down," she said after half an hour, throwing herself in a chair. Her face was sweaty and covered with soot. She no longer cared what Lord Tammutyen had to say to that.

"Fifteen minutes," said Lord Tammutyen, getting to his feet and stretching. "I shall be back." He swept out of the smithy and silence fell on it. Larynthe sighed in relief, enjoying her rest and the opportunity to do nothing at all. She had no idea what she would make of that metal, nor did she care about her sword. All she cared about was the light side and she had no idea things would get this complicated.

She was awakened by a hard slap on her shoulder and she jumped up. Lord Tammutyen was back and he was leaning forward and bringing himself into her face, spreading a nasty smell of tobacco.

("WAKE UP!") he roared in Sith. She was startled with the fact that she understood what he said. Then he continued yelling in Albinian. "Look at yourself! A few hours of hard work and you are already fainting! You are weak! You will never be worthy enough to be taught by the Dark Lord!"

Larynthe stared at him, her cheeks flushed with anger and rubbed her aching shoulder. He really had one paw of a hand, and, Dark side or not, he was strong like an ox.

"Yes, you would like that, would you not, Lord Tammutyen?" she shot back at him, heart pounding in her throat, her brown eyes flashing with fury. "You would like to be given a reason to kill me, would you not?"

"I will not deny it would offer me great satisfaction," answered the Sith grimly, drawing aback with dignity and glancing over her with disgust. "But those were not my orders. ON YOUR FEET!"

He lifted up a hand and the Dark side enveloped her. Larynthe let out a yelp, feeling herself being lifted in the air, the unyielding, clammy, blood-freezing hand of the Dark side enveloping her throat and depriving her of air. Lord Tammutyen released her by firmly unclenching his fist, and she crumbled down on the floor, coughing.

"NOW GET BACK TO WORK!" he yelled. She struggled to her feet, breathing heavily and staring at the floor, trying to compose herself. But now anger and hatred got the better of her. She threw herself at him with a desperate roar and grabbed his hands. She did not know what she wanted to accomplish herself, but gouging out his horrible dark eyes had crossed her mind. She bit him and scratched, did everything she could think of to harm him, while spitting out the most horrible curses she could think of. The Sith stood calmly, seemingly allowing her to do this. In one moment he caught her firmly, his face still expressionless. His large cold fists grabbed her wrists and he gave a sudden jerk, twisting her arms backwards, what made her howl in pain. She stared at him, hatred screaming out of her eyes, biting her lips. It was then she set her eyes on a sight she would not easily forget. There were a few droplets of something black and thick on his cheek, right at the place where she scratched him. She stared as the skin moved around it, as though something was struggling to break free, but the following moment the scratch healed before her very eyes.

He released her, seeing that she was horror-struck and unable to move. She made a few backward steps without meaning to, still gaping at him.

"What… are you?" she whispered, her chest heaving up and down. The first thing she thought was a demon of some sort and the very thought made her faint with terror.

"Like my sister said, I am not human," he said slowly, but not without amusement. Then he pointed at the cold blade, which was lying on one of the tables, along with a long pair of tongs. "Now continue your work."

She still stared at him, her lips moving but no sound was coming out. Lord Tammutyen made a pace forward, thumped the table before her with his fist so hard it rattled and yelled: ("NOW!")

Larynthe sat down at once and took the tongs, not taking her glance off him, in case he considered approaching her again, and, with a trembling hand, caught the blade with her tongs and lowered it into the fire beside her. Lord Tammutyen swept away his cloak and seated himself on a simple wooden chair, withdrawing his cigar box from his robes.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

But the nightmare was not over even when she was allowed to go to her room, believing they would now leave her in peace. She took the blade with her, because Lord Tammutyen told her to meditate on her sword. She threw it carelessly on her bed as soon as she entered her room and headed to the bathroom, to wash down the soot and to calm down. She was pretty certain that the black liquid she saw was in fact Lord Tammutyen's blood. But that was not the only thing that made her stomach churn within her. The skin around the scratch moved as though there were hundreds of worms squirming underneath it and Larynthe felt sick every time she thought about it.

She could not eat and settled instead by the window to stare at the darkening skies beyond the Temple. At some point she heard the door open and she turned around, annoyed. The fact that everyone could just walk in at will frustrated her, but she checked when she saw who was it.

Lord Tammutyen, who was now wearing long, wide robes, uncannily resembled the Dark Lord when he was dressed that way, Larynthe thought. His long, thick, black hair framed his pale face like a dark curtain.

"Meditation, now," he said curtly, waving a hand. She stared at him, eyes wide, wondering what he wanted to say. "I mean," he said slowly, as though explaining things to a child, pronouncing words carefully, "You go and prepare yourself for meditation. I shall guide you, assist you. Those are my orders."

Larynthe slowly slid off her bed and headed to the adjacent room, where she once placed a large pillow on the floor and tried to meditate without success. Still staring at him with an air of a person who did not dare to openly disobey and yet at the same time would like nothing better, she sat down. Lord Tammutyen looked around himself and nodded.

He headed toward a candlestick Larynthe placed on a simple wooden table in the corner of the room and passed with his palm over it, at what the candle ignited with a soft poof. He took off his cloak, draping it over a chair, crossed the room and settled himself down on the rug before Larynthe, folding his legs easily underneath him. His face was frozen in his well-known expression of indifference. It occurred to Larynthe, judging by his shivering, that he did not approve of the temperature of the room, but he did not remark on it. Probably a test to his endurance, she thought. Their proneness to make themselves at times purposefully uncomfortable confused her.

"Well, close your eyes," he said, lifting an eyebrow at the sight of her, who was still staring at him. She quickly obeyed, rubbing her ankles with her hands nervously. She could not imagine for the life of her what this was all about.

"I shall guide you through your meditation," he said in a quiet, melodious voice. "Listen to everything I say and act accordingly. Thus you will not make a mistake and the Dark side will obey you. Under my guidance and in my presence, the Dark side cannot harm you."

Larynthe actually believed him. She yearned so much for a good meditation, the familiar feeling of being held by the hands of the Force, for the peace of mind and soul – but the Dark side was simply not like that. However, from what she learned from Lady Tarralyanna, Larynthe believed that the effects of their meditations, despite of the fact they were done on the different side of the Force, were similar in their essence. Lady Tarralyanna often spoke of 'disburdening her mind', 'getting in tune with the Dark side' and 'finding meaning' with an air of yearning.

"Steady your breathing," Lord Tammutyen said quietly, his voice now perfectly calm and smooth. "Spread your senses and allow yourself to sink into the Dark side."

"Now begin repeating in your mind, slowly and rhythmically: K'Da M'Toot'Pah Led'Gaan. It means: I have no fear."

Larynthe recognized the 'I' and the word 'fear', but the translation was not exact, she believed. The Sith phrase meant more, she felt, not because of the length of the sentence, but because she just felt that way.

"That is well," she heard his voice. She felt him extend his senses toward her, obviously monitoring what she was doing. "Keep going. Feel the sense of liberation of all fear fill you from within, and leave you untroubled and free."

As soon as she repeated the Sith phrase a few times in her mind, Larynthe decided she liked its effect. The Dark side was not gone, quite on the contrary. It was still swirling around her, but it felt as though Lord Tammutyen acted as a shield, controlling it and not allowing the Dark side to harm Larynthe. Those were his orders, fleeted across her troubled mind, which was going blunter and blunter. The Dark Lord… would not… let him… harm me… She drifted away, the phrase she spun in her mind now spinning automatically, without her noticing.

"You are standing in front a beautiful building," she heard his distant voice, as though from another world. "It is your sanctuary, a place where you belong, where you feel safe and where you go when you need advice and a place to rest. What is it? How does it look like?"

"There are many stone stairs leading to it," she said in a strange voice. "Two pillars, from each side. Fire is burning atop of each and the fire stands look like outstretched palms."

Tammutyen was startled with the vividness of her vision. It extended easily toward him through the Dark side and he could see what she could, despite of the fact that her mind was untrained, that her anger was untamed and that she was still full of fear. Her Force eyes were wide open and this surprised him.

"What is the colour of the fire?" he asked.

"Yellow," she answered without delay. "The fire stands are white."

"Enter the building," said Lord Tammutyen after a pause. Larynthe did so, now definitely curious.

"There is a long corridor leading forward," she said. "Pillars to each side, round and grey. At the end…"

She paused, not certain that she was seeing right.

"Go on," Tammutyen prompted her, straining his mind as well. It seemed that her consciousness was not clear about it either.

"A throne," she whispered, shivering. "Light falling down on it from all sides, through tall windows running up to the vaulted ceiling. Paintings… all over the ceiling. Beautiful paintings. Oh!"

She was touched with what she saw and did not know what to make of it. This place… was so beautiful, so impressive in its simplicity. But at the same time, it looked awfully familiar; it felt as though she had already been there, and yet she could not remember ever visiting such a place.

"Now ask to be shown what your sword should look like, which shall allow you to serve the Dark side the best that you can," said Lord Tammutyen. Larynthe was reluctant, gazing around herself and drinking in the atmosphere of the place, awed by its beauty. It felt… like home indeed. She asked the question, feeling stupid for doing this, not knowing who was it that she was addressing, but at least thankful to Lord Tammutyen that he showed her this place. She resolved to try to come back in her meditation the following night. Suddenly she became aware of a figure sitting on the throne. The figure wordlessly lowered something into Larynthe's hands. It was a long sword all right.

"Describe the sword," said Lord Tammutyen commandingly.

"It has… symbols along the blades," Larynthe said, startled with what she was seeing, not believing what was happening, but feeling as though the situation was developing on its own, just like one of the visions she once had of Lady Tarralyanna.

"Glyphs." She swallowed something hard as she realised that those were Sith glyphs. For a moment she considered whether all that studying got the better of her, but Lord Tammutyen spoke again.

"Read," he said.

"Pa. Geh, Tet, Ka, Meh," she began.

She read the symbols as though enchanted, which appeared on the blade as though written in flame, being traced along the metal by an invisible hand. Tammutyen memorised the symbols as she recited them, quickly lining them one after another in his mind to form words. When she was done, he had a phrase in his mind, a phrase in Sith she could not have possibly known how to put together just yet. Or could she?

"They are etched in flame," breathed Larynthe, fascinated.

"What is the colour of the flame?" asked Lord Tammutyen carefully.

"Scarlet," said Larynthe at once.

"How does the hilt look like?" asked Lord Tammutyen promptly.

"Soft… made out of soft leather, something beige," she said, furrowing her brow. "My hand falls in when I grip it and it feels very comfortable."

"Is there something else that is different from the sword you have seen on your sketch?" he asked.

"I do not think so," she said. But the fact was that she could not remember how the sketch looked like, for she did not study it well enough.

"Is there anything else that catches your attention?" asked Lord Tammutyen.

"No," said Larynthe, looking up to the windows and enjoying the rays of sunlight on her face. There was so little light in the Sith Temple and she missed it.

"Who is this person that gave you the sword? Is he still there?" asked Lord Tammutyen.

"Yes," said Larynthe, shivering. "But I cannot see his face."

"Go to him," said Lord Tammutyen. "Kneel before him and bow your head. Then ask him who he is."

Larynthe did so, feeling suddenly very apprehensive. For a moment she believed that the hand extending to her from underneath the cloak was the hand of her master and she felt happy she would be able to see him after so much time, her heart leaping and all apprehension evaporating. But two familiar, heavy rings suddenly appeared on the hand, the fingers extended, got longer and whiter, until she saw, to her horror, that it was the hand of the Dark Lord. She screamed and rolled aside, landing on the cold, stone floor with the dark eyes of Lord Tammutyen staring at her.

"Well, well," he said, his eyes twinkling in a dangerous way. "This is all very interesting."

Larynthe panted, burying her face in her hands and trying to force the image of the Dark Lord's hand out of her mind, but without success. It lingered there, as though branded in her brain.

"Do you know what the phrase you read to me in Sith means?" asked Lord Tammutyen.

"I have no idea," she said defiantly, sitting down once again. "I might have seen it somewhere."

"Hand all of your notes and books to me," he said getting to his feet. "Now."

Larynthe dragged herself back to her room and pulled a thick pile of her scribbles, along with the book, and handed them to him. At least this meant she would not need to study tonight, she thought.

"Indeed, laziness is very inventive," said Lord Tammutyen a little absently, opening the book. "However, I shall give these back to you. I only want to see what you have done so far."

He sat down on a chair in her bedroom and started flipping through her notes, seemingly not paying attention to what she was doing. Larynthe felt emotionally exhausted and she stared through the window. The meditation, although it felt very good in the beginning, did not help her the least. It only made matters worse.

"Very well," said the Sith at length, putting her notes away and looking a little thoughtful. "We shall continue working on your sword tomorrow. But tonight, apart from your usual studying, perhaps one place you might find comfortable, judging by the appearance of your sanctuary, or what I have seen of it –"

"You have seen it?" asked Larynthe, her jaw dropping. "How?"

Lord Tammutyen looked at her contemptuously.

"The Dark side is the most powerful Force in the Universe," he said coldly. "And I am a Sith master. As I was saying, one place you might find appealing and comfortable, would be the eastern terrace. Should you want to visit it, ask Peetah to show you the way."

He turned on his heel without saying goodbye to her and went out. Larynthe stared after him, wondering about the terrace. Why would he want to send her to a place she would find appealing? And then she realised – the Sith had no idea what she might find appealing. They felt that the Sith Temple was their home, they felt comfortable here and they naturally believed that everyone else would feel the same way about it. They could not comprehend that someone might think it was a horrible place. Larynthe was confused with this strange act of grace and at the same time she was surprised with herself for feeling grateful to him.


	29. Chapter 28 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

In this chapter the fallen Jedi finally goes through the ceremony of Birth. But her troubles are far from over. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXVIII – Birth in Darkness

Larynthe did not care for the dimensions of her sword, but Lord Tammutyen insisted on bringing her vision of it to life and making the sword exactly as she thought it would fit her best. He nagged her with a series of questions which finally made her explode. She shouted at him that she would find the sword much easier to handle if its weight was half of the weight proposed on the sketch. This sounded natural and logical to Tammutyen and he set off to find Lady Tarralyanna to calculate the new dimensions for Larynthe's sword. He had Larynthe work half of that day and did not allow her to rest until the blades were finished and ready for engraving.

As he sat watching her work on her blades the following day, squinting through smoke which was the result of her hard work and Lord Tammutyen's smoking, he kept wondering whether she really knew what the phrase she was now engraving meant. His Master told him not to tell her; but he was certain that Larynthe could easily find out. But, as it were, she was too exhausted each time she came back to her room to ever wonder about that.

"Your sword shall be finished today," he said, more to himself. "And tomorrow Tarralyanna and I shall train you in speaking Sith."

Larynthe looked up from her work, her face pale and sweaty, and squinted through the mist.

"You have to be joking," she said incredulously. "I understand a few words, that is all. It is infernally hard!"

"Well, you will have to learn fast, Jedi Larynthe," he said, giving an amused chuckle. "Because my Master wants to perform the Ceremony soon."

"Why is it necessary for me to speak Sith?" she asked. She would have asked this sooner, but she had more pressing matters on her mind.

"The whole Ceremony is in Sith," said Lord Tammutyen, puffing clouds of fragrant smoke toward her. "And you will need to speak in Sith, too. The Dark side shall listen and it is only appropriate that you speak Sith. It is the language of the Dark side; and every Sith that ever died and rests with it shall hear you."

"You think so?" she asked, curious. All this sounded very plausible; and for a moment she wondered why there was no Jedi language. The Sith's lips curled into a derisive smile which evolved into a smirk.

"I know so," he answered softly. "Thus it is very important that you speak Sith, even if your grammar is lousy. Lady Tarralyanna and I will teach you all the important sentences."

"Can I ask you just one question?" she asked, reaching after the ewer with water. Drinking water was about the only thing she was allowed to do while working and Larynthe suddenly caught herself drinking far more water than what she would usually require. The Sith nodded wordlessly.

"Why do you enjoy inflicting her pain?" she asked without blinking. The monumental Sith seemed to be taken aback with this question. "I have noticed, you know. Not that she does not retaliate or enjoy it... But you really cannot hide the look of immense pleasure when you are beastly to her. I have seen you kiss and you were pushing her around and clawing her."

The Sith considered her for a few moments, after what he burst into laughter.

"Humans," he muttered to himself, crushing down his cigar and blowing out the last bit of smoke through the corner of his mouth. "We come alive, when we are pain and it reminds us of how fragile our flesh really is. Inflicting each other pain makes our blood boil, our minds dizzy and our hearts beat faster. Well, hers anyway," he added with a smile. But Larynthe did not notice his correction.

"Your blood seems to be boiling just fine even without that, Lord Tammutyen," remarked Larynthe quietly, resuming her work. The Sith laughed again. He was very amused with her questions, and could now understand why Lady Tarralyanna claimed that the Jedi was making her laugh all the time.

"You see torment and suffering," he said. "I see passion and celebration of life."

"It is impossible for me to see any pleasure in experiencing pain," said Larynthe.

"No," he said, then pointing at her. "Not in physical pain anyway. But do you not inflict yourself pain by constant craving? You crave after food, after rest, after peace, after so many things, and yet when you have all these things, you find something else to crave for. It must be exhausting."

She looked at him, unable to resist sneering.

"You do not look forward to eating? To sleeping?" she said, shaking her head. "Quite sincerely, I find that hard to believe."

"I do look forward to those things," he answered. "But I do not identify myself with food or with any sort of pleasure. For me those are only means to an end."

"I am sorry, but I cannot believe that," she said firmly.

"Of course you cannot," he said, contrary to what she thought he would say. "Perhaps some day, you shall. Perhaps even after the Ceremony. I still do not think you are neither ready for it, nor worthy to be taught by my Master. But he wants you to do this – and I shall do my very best to prepare you for it."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

("Who are you?") asked Lady Tarralyanna the following day, with Larynthe sitting bolt upright and glancing from one Sith to the other. She asked the question in Sith, speaking slowly and clearly, to help Larynthe understand. She understood it, but furrowed her brow, asking herself what she was supposed to answer to such a straightforward and silly question. They knew her name! Why should she say who she was if they already knew?

"Now you should say something like 'sincere follower of the great Dark side' or 'seeker of the heart of Darkness'," said Lord Tammutyen, speaking in Albinian, and then translating the two phrases for her in Sith.

"Heart of Darkness?" echoed Larynthe with a twitch of her mouth, trying very hard not to burst laughing. To her, this sounded awfully poetical, dramatic and terribly funny.

"Albinian is so very limited in its vocabulary," said Lady Tarralyanna with a sigh. "There is but one word for darkness. The one Tammutyen used signifies the power of the Dark side. Thus 'the heart of Darkness' would indicate the heart of the power of the Dark side. Poetically speaking, for of course, there is no such thing."

"I see," said Larynthe, chuckling to herself. "All right, let us just say for a moment that I understood what this Ceremony is all about and why I need to take it. Should I not be sincere? Say what I really think?"

"Within certain frames, yes, by all means," said Lady Tarralyanna, now getting interested. Every time she leaned forward in that way, Larynthe learned, it meant that Lady Tarralyanna was curious. "Why? What would you have said if I asked you that question now?"

"Well, going along the same poetic line, I would say that I am the one who is searching for the lost light," said Larynthe at once. The two Sith exchanged glances and Lady Tarralyanna smiled broadly.

"It sounds very characteristic of you and it sounds truthful, which is very important," she said, fascinated. "Try to translate it. Tammutyen and I shall help you with that. Oh, and the word for light would be 'Kem'Paar'. It means clarity and brilliance. It is just one aspect of the Albinian word 'light', but the one you wanted to use, am I right?"

"The word is very fitting, yes," said Larynthe, surprised with her understanding. For once, the Sith seemed to understand her.

"After you have been led in, Master shall speak to you. But Tammutyen will translate in case you cannot understand everything," continued Lady Tarralyanna.

"Lady Tarralyanna, I can understand but a few words," said Larynthe, annoyed. She wrote down the phrase the two translated for her and put down her quill. "And when you speak to each other you speak so fast and muffled I can barely catch a word, let along understand you."

"Master shall speak slowly enough," said Lady Tarralyanna consolingly. "Back to the Ceremony. You will be asked to present your sword. After that, you shall give your Oath before the Dark Lord and the Dark side. Now, you will write down that Oath, in Albinian, if you cannot do it in Sith just yet, and present it to him."

"What kind of an oath?" asked Larynthe, knowing this was the oath the Dark Lord spoke about, but now it seemed that this oath was supposed to be more than just 'I swear I will serve the Dark side'. They make a fuss out of everything concerning this stupid ceremony, she thought, and complicate things – so why not complicate this as well?

"In it, you shall explain your reasons for turning to the Dark side; you shall try to describe yourself, who you are now, and what the Dark side's acceptance would mean to you; you shall reflect upon the future, trying to sum up what you believe your service to the Dark side should look like and what it should bring you. Then you shall promise to give all that you believe is fitting, at this time, in return for the Dark side's support; and finally, swear your allegiance to our Master. Now, we are not certain about that last bit. He did not say what he wants you to be, or how he will train you," said Lady Tarralyanna, surreptitiously looking at her brother. Since the Dark Lord wanted Larynthe to present her sword at the Ceremony and told her to write her oath, they supposed he would be taking her as his apprentice. But he never said it out loud.

"What have _you_ written in your oaths?" asked Larynthe, shrugging. Sometimes she felt that copying was the safest way out. Especially with the Sith.

"We cannot tell you that, you silly Jedi," laughed Lady Tarralyanna. "The Oaths are never read aloud! The Dark Lord reads them, offering them afterwards to the Dark side. Our Oaths are between the Mighty Dark side and us and they contain very intimate details. I have never heard Tammutyen's, nor has he heard mine. But we were children. We wrote as children would write."

"Just offer him your allegiance, to follow his teachings," said Lady Tarralyanna, musing, "I daresay that would be fitting, do you not?"

"Sort of," said Larynthe.

"Well, it is of the utmost importance that you are sincere and that you say exactly what you feel," she said. "The Dark side despises weakness; but it also despises lies."

"So, I should say why I am really here," said Larynthe, straightening up seriously. "That what I really want is to get back to the light side?"

"If that is what you really want, then yes," interjected Lord Tammutyen in his bass, looking up at her. He had been silent up to now.

"All right," said Larynthe, leaning aback. "Just do not tell me that I did not ask."

"Then, after you have given your Oath," continued Lady Tarralyanna. "You will be given a name."

"A name?" asked Larynthe, gaping.

"Yes," said Lady Tarralyanna. "You have been given names by the Council in the Jedi Temple, yes? It is the same thing, nothing mysterious."

"Er… no, actually," answered Larynthe. "Larynthe really is my name."

"How peculiar," said Lady Tarralyanna, looking aside at Lord Tammutyen, who looked equally stunned. "You bear the same name before and after? I wonder why that book on the Jedi did not say anything about that?"

"Perhaps they thought it was understandable," suggested Larynthe with a laugh.

"You are probably correct," said Lady Tarralyanna, looking at her with approval. Lady Tarralyanna did not at least treat her as a silly ignorant child, like Lord Tammutyen did, thought Larynthe. She would openly laugh at her, but she would just as openly express her admiration or approval. "Our Master gave us names, the ones we bear now, during the Ceremony of Birth. Before that, we were nameless."

"Nameless?" echoed Larynthe.

"Yes, I was called the Girl and Tammutyen the Boy," said Lady Tarralyanna, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Well, we are speculating. We have no idea how this part of your Ceremony will look like, since you are not a child and since you already have a name."

"All right, given a name. What then?" asked Larynthe.

"After that, the Dark Lord might give you something," said Lady Tarralyanna, carefully avoiding to tell Larynthe that she might be branded, because, well, she had no idea whether her Master might do that to her. "A gift."

"What kind of a gift?" asked Larynthe with a dark sense of foreboding. "It has nothing to do with pleasure in pain, does it?"

The two Sith roared with laughter and Larynthe frowned, glancing from one to the other and then looking down on her hands. Her sarcasm often made them react like this – they would find certain things Larynthe said horribly funny, which she would spit out in anger or resentment. But at the same time the two Sith did not find Larynthe's jokes funny.

"Again, we do not know," said Lady Tarralyanna, grinning at her. "But for the sake of an example, for me, it was a ring."

"Ooh, I see," breathed Larynthe with relief. "Jewellery. Well, I have never worn any, but I have nothing against jewellery. I might even be a nice change."

She glanced over her short, stubby fingers, and inclined her head, visualizing a ring. This seemed to comfort her. The Sith told her nothing else. Once she finished her sword and wrapped it in linen, they sent her off to her room to write her Oath.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Larynthe paced in her room for some time, wondering how to write this fantastic oath so that she would be sincere, and yet that she would not sound offensive. Suddenly she remembered something that made her pause by the window. She once wrote a beautiful poem, when she managed to smuggle a bottle of Malaskian wine into the Temple and drink a fair amount of it. If she already felt this empty-brained and uninspired, perhaps alcohol would help her. She set off to find Peetah and asked her for a bottle of wine. The old Malaskian hastened to indulge her and as soon as she had a dusty bottle of old, strong wine on her table (the Malaskians were famous for their strong drinks, especially liquors), Larynthe got to work. Pleased, she wondered how this had not occurred to her before. The wine slowed down her frantic thoughts and worries and she felt relaxed and at peace with the world. Sighing, she took her quill and started writing.

"_I turn to the Dark side in the twilight of my life. I have been left without hope for life as it once was for me. I yearn for the light side, as I have known it, as it is, and __wish__ to find it through the great Dark side. It is my greatest desire, to feel it again. _(She almost wrote 'serve', but held herself back right on time.)

_As all that I have known disappeared around me, I have been left without a name; without hope; without the will for life. In the Dark side, I hope to reclaim all of these things and find the light that I have lost. I seek for the truth, for the lost dream, for the yesterday that I hope shall be my tomorrow. I used to be a helper of the people, defender of the weak and oppressed, a loyal friend and a loyal servant of the light side. But my loss has turned me into who I am now and in my current condition I am of no use to any side of the Force. _

_In the journey toward the realisation of my one and greatest wish, I shall serve the Dark side the best that I can; for the great helper and merciful tutor it would be for me. I oath I shall do all that I can to fulfil its will and serve it to the best of my ability. _

_Thus I offer my allegiance to the Dark Lord of the Sith; I oath I shall be an obedient student and learn all that he teaches me. Though the path ahead of me is very steep, I have no choice but to climb it._"

As she finished writing, she became suddenly aware of how hypocritical and selfish her oath sounded. Thus she added one more sentence:

"_Perhaps the Dark side will have some use of me and forgive me for my desire to feel the light side again_."

Well, at least the oath was sincere, if nothing else. Actually it felt very liberating to put all of this into words and write it down, after all that time she spent pondering it. She pushed the parchment away from her with a great sense of relief, as though she had brought yet another important decision, but the one that made her feel better, rather than worse. If the Dark side accepts this – preposterous, she thought; the Dark side is the other aspect of the Force, and it does not have eyes, or ears – then she would know that the realisation of her goal was as good as there. She thought about this long and hard and reread her oath many times. But she did not cross anything out and finally she went to bed.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

She was woken the following morning – or what she thought was morning – by an exclamation and a hasty slam of the door. She lazily opened her eyes. Her head felt heavy and the room was spinning around her.

("Heart of Rage!") whispered a voice in Sith with a note of despair. ("Great Abyss!")

"Uh," growled another voice, as though this was all he could say. Larynthe peered toward the door.

Lady Tarralyanna was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, staring at Larynthe's table and at the almost empty wine bottle. She looked as though she had seen a ghost. Judging by the tone of her voice and her exclamations, Larynthe conjectured that something was out of place. She lifted her head and yawned.

"Wosswron?" she mumbled.

"You have been drinking!" uttered Lady Tarralyanna in hissing Albinian, as though forgetting to switch to Albinian completely. She quickly looked back toward the door as though fearing the Dark Lord might barge in. "On the day of the Ceremony!"

Larynthe sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her head felt indeed very heavy. It was some time before she comprehended what the Sith was talking about. She threw the bed cover aside and stared at Lady Tarralyanna.

"It is _today_?" she asked, reaching out for her dressing gown. "I was writing my Oath! Wine helped me think! How was I supposed to know?"

("Oh, merciless Darkness, what are we going to do?") hissed Lady Tarralyanna in Sith again. Lord Tammutyen placed a hand on her shoulder and glanced disapprovingly over the content of Larynthe's table.

"Master will not be pleased at all," he growled. "We were supposed to prepare you for the Ceremony."

Now Larynthe realised why they sounded so shocked and looked so afraid – the looks on their faces spoke clearly about how much they feared the Dark Lord.

"I am sorry," she said, suddenly aware what this meant for them – he would punish them severely. "There must be something I can do. I can eat – that would solve the problem. He would not be able to smell the wine then, would he?"

"You fool," breathed Lady Tarralyanna, livid. "The Dark Lord would know! He does not need his nose to know that you have been drinking! You were not supposed to eat today at all, you were supposed to fast until the Ceremony! We came to tell you this! And this ruins right about everything!"

"There is one thing we can do, however, if we cannot turn the time back," said Lord Tammutyen in his bass, staring fixedly at Larynthe. "We can take her to the water garden and have her sweat it out. Few hours should do the trick."

Lady Tarralyanna stared at him for a few moments and then slowly nodded.

"Yes," she said quietly. "That is the only way out. An excellent idea, Tammutyen." The Sith shrugged modestly with his broad shoulders. "Yes, put your bathrobe on. Quickly!"

Larynthe scrambled out of bed and undressed in the bathroom, picking up her bathrobe and putting it on. The Sith were talking quietly when she came back and looked at her as though she was the source of all of their troubles. And she probably was, it occurred to her, remembering the shock she heard in Lady Tarralyanna's voice when she first came in.

Lady Tarralyanna beckoned her with an air of impatience. Already sweating in an effort to keep up with the two Sith, Larynthe asked herself why she was supposed to fast that day. It sounded awfully like some kind of sacrifice, she thought, running corridor after corridor after the two Sith, who no longer bothered to use words to speak to each other – she could feel the Dark side flashing between them as they exchanged their thoughts.

"In here," whispered Lady Tarralyanna, opening a small wooden door at the side of the corridor, casting an aside glance and reaching out with the Dark side, obviously probing for the presence of the Dark Lord, after what she nodded at Lord Tammutyen. Larynthe darted in without a word and found herself in the same strange solarium she saw the two of them kiss the other day. It is already infernally hot in here, she thought, looking around herself. Lady Tarralyanna impatiently grabbed her hand and dragged her off to an artificially made cave, pushing her inside. It would have been terribly interesting and fascinating if Larynthe was not in trouble and anxious to get out of it, both for her sake and for theirs. Lady Tarralyanna did not mind her robes were all wet, as she had been walking through the water, and started fumbling with the fountain which occupied the middle of the cave. There was a bench which ran all around the cave and as small as the cave was, it was perfectly comfortable and very… well, romantic.

A cloud of smoke rose from the fountain and now Larynthe realised that Lady Tarralyanna lit a fire which was hidden in the depths of the fountain. It painted the walls of the cave an eerie shade of red and Larynthe took a few deep breaths, trying to ascertain herself that everything would be all right and that she would not faint. The Sith knew what they were doing – because this time they were in trouble along with her.

"Take off your bathrobe," Lady Tarralyanna ordered her. The fire already began to emit unbearable waves of heat. Larynthe stared at her, as though she could not believe her ears and glanced toward the stately figure of Lord Tammutyen, who was leaning over the entrance to the cave and staring at her with a serious look on his pale face.

"Can I be alone, Lady Tarralyanna, please?" Larynthe said quietly, looking in Lord Tammutyen's direction, who lifted an eyebrow. Lady Tarralyanna looked up, realising what was troubling her and waving in his direction. He snorted and disappeared from sight. Larynthe quickly untied her bathrobe, set it aside and stared at Lady Tarralyanna, who was still fumbling with the fire. At long last, she straightened up and looked at her.

"Now stay here," she said firmly. "Stay until your heart begins to beat too fast. Then you can go and dip yourself in cold water, over there by the windows. But then you must come back to the cave. This is for your good, too, because if you showed up with alcohol in your blood for the Ceremony, the Dark Lord would not have been pleased at all. You do not want to make him angry."

Larynthe swallowed, deciding to follow her instructions to the letter.

"We must go after our usual duties," said Lady Tarralyanna. "But we shall come to check on you as soon as we are done. It is important that you drink a lot of water. That will both help your detoxification process, as it will prevent dehydration. Now, do as I told you and for Darkness' sake, stay out of trouble."

She swept out of the cave, her wet cloak dragging over the surface of the ankle-deep water. Larynthe heard her talk to lord Tammutyen, the hissing and gurgling amplified by the acoustics of the water garden. Soon they left her alone.

Poor Larynthe remained in the cave, sweating like a pig, coming out only when she thought she would faint. With her heart hammering in her throat she jumped in the pool with cold water. Already the following moment she screamed and scrambled out – the water was ice-cold. She spent perhaps three hours alternating between sitting in the stifling hot cave and the throwing herself into the pool with cold water. As she was already considering what to do if the Sith forgot all about her, there was a slam of the door and she looked up.

"Jedi Larynthe?" whispered a voice in Albinian. It was Lord Tammutyen. He was not visible, though, and he was obviously standing beside the cave, remembering that she did not want to undress in front of him.

"I am still here," she answered in a shaky voice.

"You may come out now," he said.

With a sigh of relief, Larynthe draped the bathrobe over her shoulders, and, tying it around her waist, she wobbled out, her wet hair adhering to her face. Lord Tammutyen was standing in the water and he glanced over her with a serious expression on his face. He was still wearing his training clothes.

"Do you feel dizzy?" he asked.

"A little," she answered, surprised with this question which clearly indicated he was concerned about her.

"Weak on your feet?" he asked again, glancing over her shamelessly.

It occurred to Larynthe that perhaps he really did not know the meaning of shame, when it came to nudity. If they grew up with each other and had no idea what shame was, perhaps he could not understand why she did not want to undress in front of him. She nodded.

"You need air. Let us go," he said, turning away from her and heading for the door.

"Where are we going?" she asked in a whisper as soon as they found themselves in the quiet corridor of the Sith Temple, his boots dripping with water and emitting squelching sounds as he walked.

"To your chambers, of course," he said. "Peetah is waiting for you. She shall help you get ready."

"Oh," said Larynthe, trotting after him. "Could you please slow down, Lord Tammutyen? I do not feel well."

He did so, snorting and looking up to the ceiling, annoyed. But Larynthe was too preoccupied with her own troubles to care about his annoyance.

"Now," he said as he opened the door to her chambers. Peetah stood up as he entered and bowed her head. "You shall do everything Peetah says. She knows very well what to do. One of us shall come to fetch you when it is time. You shall bring your sword with you, and your Oath. But nothing more. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, Lord Tammutyen," Larynthe said, sitting down on her bed and rubbing her eyes.

"Good," he said, glancing around the room with his cigar in his teeth and then resolutely heading back toward the door, which closed behind him with a loud snap. Larynthe looked at the old Malaskian woman, who, to her great surprise, was silently crying.

"Do I smell like wine, Peetah?" she asked the old woman as she bustled around her. Peetah brought her a chair to sit by the fire so that her hair could dry more quickly.

"No, miss Jedi," said Peetah. Then she let out a whimper. "It is all my fault! I have brought you the wine!"

She broke into sobs, getting to her feet and swaying toward the table, picking up a large wooden brush.

"Oh, Peetah, we had no idea," said Larynthe, overwhelmed with sympathy for the old woman, "They did not know, either. It was only this morning they found out that the ceremony would be performed today. But, for what it is worth, your wine helped me write something very good. And I am glad I drank it."

ooooooooooooooo

An hour later, Larynthe was standing naked in the middle of the room, while the Malaskian woman smeared pink paste over her body and rubbed it in. Larynthe did not feel awkward for being naked in front of her, because Peetah reminded her of a caring mother or an aunt. She looked toward the bundle which was resting on her bedside. It was the sword she made, and one she forged in sweat and pain. Compared to her Jalá sword, it was her best work yet, a masterpiece, she thought. In a few hours, she would finally go to this magnificent ceremony and be done with it, and hopefully, start learning. Why was all this necessary, she asked herself for the umpteenth time? Why do I need to smell like a cloud of perfume? At least it explained why the Sith always smelled as though they poured ten different perfumes over themselves.

"Here, dear," said the old woman tearfully, carrying a bundle of black material and carefully putting it on the table.

"What is that?" asked Larynthe.

"Your… sad'khai," sobbed the Malaskian, sniffing. "Lady Tarralyanna told me to make one for you."

"My _what_?" asked Larynthe.

"The traditional Sith robes," explained Peetah, as though not believing that Larynthe did not know what a sad'khai was. "You are going to be… a Sith! Oh, forgive the old, sentimental woman… But I am so glad for you, miss Jedi."

Peetah had grown very fond of the conversational, friendly Jedi who was always in the mood for talk and who appreciated her cuisine, praising her for trying – and succeeding – to make Larynthe's favourite dishes.

"Glad?" echoed Larynthe, watching her pick something up that resembled a shirt. "I thought you would feel sorry for me."

"Sorry?" asked the Malaskian, pulling the shirt over her head and dexterously tying the strings behind her back. "He… shall teach you and look after you. His power is immeasurable. He has been very strict with my Lady and her Lord brother, but he would not have been if he did not expect great things from them. Yes, he knew they would grow up to be very powerful and very wise, and he did not spare them."

"Is that is why he throws daggers at them?" asked Larynthe bitterly, looking at the pair of trousers the old woman was carrying.

"They are his students," the Malaskian whispered in a fearful voice. "You must not talk nonsense, child. Your Jedi Order cannot be compared to HIM." She waved off dismissively. "The Dark side is strong with you, I know it. And you have been destined to come here. This is your home, child."

"I am sure of it," she added, tapping Larynthe on the shoulder and picking up a pair of boots, which were obviously meant for Larynthe.

Larynthe could not believe her ears. She had many pleasant conversations with the old Malaskian, but she never expected her to talk like that about the Sith or about the Dark side. Suddenly, Larynthe was tingly with anticipation, and she was very, very curious.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Her hair now straight and dry, wearing the strange black clothes which was surprisingly comfortable and simple black boots, Larynthe was sitting on her bed and talking to Peetah. Her stomach had given up on growling as it obviously realised that she would not eat anything no matter what. The caffeine withdrawal and fasting, atop of her long sweating session, made Larynthe feel weak on her feet and strangely feather-brained. She was perfumed, her nails were clean, and she felt like a walking flower. It was not that Larynthe did not like to smell pleasantly; but she felt that this was just too much. The door finally opened and Peetah nervously sprang to her feet.

"It is time," Lord Tammutyen announced, peering through the doorway, as though thinking Larynthe might be naked. That was awfully thoughtful of him, she thought as she got to her feet, picking up her sword and her rolled up oath. Lady Tarralyanna must have explained it to him. Peetah let out a muffled sob as she watched her follow the broad-shouldered Sith into the corridor and Larynthe turned to smile at her from the doorway. Lord Tammutyen was walking very slowly this time, perhaps even too slowly for Larynthe's present state of mind. She found the long, black cloak a bit too long, as it was dragging over the floor. However, she remembered that the two Sith always wore their cloaks that long. It must be some kind of a tradition.

Lord Tammutyen lead the way, not looking at her, and finally paused before a large iron double door on the first floor. There were no other doors in that corridor, which looked just like any other corridor in the Temple. He glanced over Larynthe and drank in her appearance. The corner of his mouth twitched in an effort not to smile. He nodded at her. Larynthe on the other hand now had the chance to see what he was wearing. He was wearing the exact same thing, only in a different size. However, instead of a sword, this time there was a long dagger a with beautiful bejewelled hilt sticking out of his belt.

He opened the door for her and Larynthe nervously stepped inside. As soon as she entered the chamber, her nostrils detected a strong, spicy and alluring scent. The door snapped shut behind her as Lord Tammutyen came inside. Larynthe was pretty certain that the hall she was standing in was huge, judging by her echoing footsteps, but all she could see was a small fire dancing in a black, shallow bowl which was hanging from the ceiling.

("Who are you?") boomed a voice from the shadows. Larynthe jumped and it took her a few moments before she understood what the voice just asked her.

("The seeker of the lost light,") she answered in Sith. She wrote down this sentence and learned it by heart. The pronunciation was still giving her a headache, but she did her best to pronounce it as Lady Tarralyanna did.

("Come forward,") spoke the same voice. Larynthe understood and made a pace forward, with Lord Tammutyen following her closely, but stopping when she stopped.

Now Larynthe could make out the dim outlines of a throne at the bottom of the room, and saw Lady Tarralyanna, who was standing well away from it with her hands crossed before her, wearing her sad'khai as well. Her eyes were glinting in this almost complete darkness with anticipation, as she watched Larynthe come closer. Larynthe suddenly felt silly wearing those Sith robes which did not suit her and which, in her opinion, made her look ridiculous. On Lady Tarralyanna, tall and lean, the sad'khai looked very fitting and it emphasised her figure. It made Lord Tammutyen look even stronger than he was and gave him the appearance of a dangerous warrior. On Larynthe, it simply looked strange and funny. But she puffed up her chest, determined to make it through this ceremony.

"I am the Dark Lord of the Sith," Lord Tammutyen began to translate quietly into her ear. Larynthe felt his breath on her cheek and shuddered as she listened to the Sith version first, filling in the holes with the Albinian one. "I am the black abyss that swallows the cowardly; I am the merciless hand which smites down all who stand in its way; I am the Heart of Rage, the Sea of Darkness, the only Star in the starless Night; the mighty thunder rising from the deep, destroying sea, mountain and land; the unyielding flame, persevering against storm and wind, against time and decay, reaching out toward the vast, black heavens, stretching out its arms toward the endlessness of eternity."

Larynthe listened with her heart beating very fast. It was a poem, but such a fear-inspiring poem which made her dizzy and faint with dread. If she was not afraid before, she was now. Lord Tammutyen fell silent as the Dark Lord made a pause.

"The Dark side is a bottomless well of power and strength," spoke the voice from the shadows. "It is a merciless master and a powerful ally, a mentor who is a source of ancient knowledge and wisdom. But there is a price to pay in order to be accepted by it; there is an oath to be given for such Greatness to ever listen to the petty voice of a human being. Are you ready, seeker of the lost light, to pay this price, and to give this oath?"

Larynthe lingered a moment, the question taking her by surprise, as she thought that there would be a whole lot more said. I have already written my oath, she thought, looking down at it and thinking whether she was supposed to hand it in now.

("I am ready,") she answered, uncertain how to address this person who spoke. Luckily, he spared her the trouble of racking her brains by speaking again.

"I am the eyes of the Dark side, its ears and its fingers," Lord Tammutyen translated as the voice spoke on, echoing through the vast hall, making Larynthe's hair stand on end. "I shall, therefore, be the judge of your soul. Come forward and show me your weapon, seeker."

Larynthe was prompted to walk by Lord Tammutyen's finger, with which he poked her hard in the back. She made a few paces toward the throne, all the while wondering whether she might trip over something. Slowly she advanced toward the throne until she found herself at the foot of a short flight of stairs. There she knelt down, thinking it was for the best, and held up her sword. She heard a rustle of robes as someone got up and she felt the sword being lifted from her hands and taken away. She did not dare get to her feet yet.

"And did you find this phrase, which you have engraved on the blade, seeker?" asked the voice in Albinian from somewhere above her.

"I have seen it in my vision," answered Larynthe, avoiding to admit that she had no idea what it meant.

"You do not know what it means?" the voice asked the question she was dreading.

"No," said Larynthe, feeling quite stupid.

"'_And all you who seek for power to gain wealth and pursue your egoistic goals_,'" quoted the voice solemnly, "'_you shall fall by my hand and kneel before the one true power in the Universe, you shall __see __my Rage and feel it on your skin._' A quote from the Sith Code."

Larynthe understood with a painful pang why this was quoted and got a strong urge to run, but her legs would not move.

"'_Darkness is my home_', speaks your sword for you, seeker," said the voice softly, as though impressed. Larynthe froze. How was this possible? That she would write something like this on her sword, without knowing what it meant, without checking it. And how _did_ she know? She did not know that much Sith that she would be able to think of a phrase like that.

"Your M'Hoor has been accepted," said the voice after a pause during which Larynthe was feverishly thinking and bathing in cold sweat. "Now you shall give in your Oath."

Larynthe extended her trembling hand with the scroll in it and felt it being taken away from her as well. There was a long pause as the Dark Lord was reading, and at length, she heard him rolling it up and putting it away, indicating he was done.

("You have seen this seeker come to you, o Mighty, Great Dark side,") called the Dark Lord in a powerful voice, spreading his arms. ("Now state your judgement – do you accept her?")

Silence fell on the hall. Larynthe waited, thinking it was merely a phrase, a bit of drama, until she felt something envelop her. Many voices, many cold, blood-chilling voices, swirled around her, boring their way into her head; she could not make out any words and they merely felt like cobwebs, dragging over her skin, making it crawl, filling her with dread. Unable to bear it, she buried her head in her hands.

"Thus you perceive Darkness now," said the Dark Lord as the presences started fading away. The little bit of light which was solemnly glowing until then vanished, leaving them in complete darkness. "And thus you shall perceive Darkness from this moment onwards, sincere seeker."

She heard a pace on the marble floor and felt a hand extend toward her. And before she knew it, she felt a rush of power, which spilled over her like a wave and deprived her of air due to its strength and magnitude. She closed her eyes instantly, fighting for breath, her whole body shaking, and intuitively used her Force senses. She saw a fountain of indescribable power standing right before her, glowing like a dark sun in the space around her. In this moment Larynthe felt alive, truly alive, after all those months of living in a stupor; strength and power filled her and Larynthe felt the urge to explode with it.

"You cannot be my apprentice," said the Dark Lord softly. "But you can be my student. You shall be of the Sith and a part of the new current which I have started here many years ago."

"You have felt the power of the Dark side," the Dark Lord went on. "You have sworn your Oath before it and it has accepted you. Now I shall accept you. You shall be my student and your life shall belong to me; you shall obey me, always, no matter what, in life, in death, in your sleep. In return, I shall guide you in the Dark side, as now you are blind and deaf, teach you and protect you. Be loyal to me and fulfil your duties; and Darkness _shall_ become your home."

"Your life ceased the moment you have put on the traditional clothes of the servants of Darkness. We wear black, the colour of Darkness, for in Darkness we are born; in its immeasurable power we live and use it to execute the will of the Dark side; and in its soft bowels we shall take our rest, our disembodied wills darting and flashing through the world, existing beyond space and time, beyond flesh and blood," the Dark Lord spoke. "Let you now assume another name, nameless seeker. Tyananna."

Larynthe listened carefully. She did not like the name; she thought it was rather formidable, complicated, that it was the name of someone or something she feared.

"Lord Tammutyen," said the Dark Lord quietly. Footsteps were audible and a quiet exchange of a few words in Sith followed. "Give me your right hand, my student."

Larynthe lifted up her hand, not looking up, thinking that she would be given a ring. But she did not see what the Dark Lord was holding in his hand. A few paces away, Lady Tarralyanna was bating her breath, staring at the same poker with which her Master branded her when she was a child with an air of anticipation. She naturally expected Larynthe to scream. Lord Tammutyen, predictably, was staring at the kneeling figure of the Jedi with a glowing expression of pleasure.

Larynthe _did_ scream; and her scream made her feel as though it was going to splice up her head in two. The Dark Lord pressed the poker deep into her skin, holding her fist with an iron grip, for her not to wrench her hand away, his expression pitiless, his thin lips straight and unsmiling. The scent of burnt flesh spread quickly through the hall, whereas Lord Tammutyen stared down at Larynthe, his eyes glinting, awaiting an order like a vulture. As the hot iron got right down to Larynthe's bone, the Dark Lord lifted the poker. Larynthe fell down on the ground, clutching at her arm, her mind swimming. She cursed herself for her stupidity.

"The life of a Sith is pain," spoke the now distancing voice of the Dark Lord. "In pain, we learn about ourselves; we learn about our faults and our fears, and all that we need to denounce in order to become more powerful and wiser. But through enduring pain, we also show our readiness for the trials of the soul; we show our courage and our loyalty. Let this little bit of pain serve as a reminder of whom is it that you shall serve, which shall remain on your skin as long as you live. I am the Dark Lord and your Master; I am merciless and unforgiving, and I do not tolerate disobedience and laziness."

"Lift up your glance," he said quietly. Larynthe managed to jerk her head up, still cradling her arm. She felt angry and the Dark side rushed to her, attracted to such an inhuman amount of anger. She felt something being passed over her head, and then lowered down on her chest gently. She looked down quickly, alarmed, thinking that it was something else that would inflict her pain. But, it was a locket. A heavy, beautiful, silver locket. The following moment, her left hand was lifted and she felt a ring being slipped on her ring finger. Now she understood – Lady Tarralyanna was forbidden to tell her about the branding and only told her about the ring.

"Rise, Tyananna," said the Dark Lord, walking away from her and sitting down on his throne again. Larynthe got to her feet shakily, still cradling her arm. "Your Birth is complete. You may shake hands with your sister and brother."

And now Larynthe understood. Brother and sister in the Dark side, she thought, glancing around herself quickly, spotting the tall, lean figure of Lady Tarralyanna approaching her soundlessly from the shadows. She looked at her oddly, resentment showing in every line of her face; but then she extended her hand to her. After a moment of lingering, Larynthe took it. The cold fingers of the Sith enveloped her fist, squeezing it well, as though she was hoping to squash it. Larynthe felt being pulled toward her and found herself being embraced by the thin Sith, who tapped her on the back.

"M'Thaath (my sister)," she said softly, nodding at her and then moving away, before Larynthe could note what was going on. Everything was happening too fast for her to be able to actually partake in it. Larynthe stared stupidly at her, feeling her hand being gripped again. The coldness of Lady Tarralyanna's hand was nothing compared to the coldness of Lord Tammutyen, who, to Larynthe's touch, felt like a rotting corpse. Larynthe would have withdrawn her hand, mortified, but he was holding it too firmly. His pale face seemed to be shining with whiteness which contrasted his black robes, and in the dark, his head looked as though floating in mid-air. He hauled her toward himself so hard she barely managed to stay on foot and locked her in a not so gentle embrace. His hands enveloped her like an octopus, and he tapped her on the back as well, though his 'tapping' made Larynthe cough.

"M'Thaath," he said as well in his bass and moved away.

Larynthe was too preoccupied with these strange expressions of welcome to note where the Dark Lord was. When she looked toward the throne, she saw that he was gone.

("Come,") said Lady Tarralyanna quietly to Larynthe. ("Let us go.")

They led her out in the corridor, where Larynthe gasped at the sight of the two fires burning before the entrance. She had remained in the dark for too long, she thought, rubbing her eyes.

"There will be a whole lot more of that," Lord Tammutyen laughed appreciatively. "Get used to it."

"What… happened?" asked Larynthe quietly. Lady Tarralyanna was eyeing her with interest, her sapphire eyes glinting.

"You have passed your Ceremony of Birth well enough," she said quietly. "The Dark side has accepted you. Can you not feel it?"

Larynthe took a deep breath and then checked. The Dark side which she had been sensing throughout the past few months was replaced by a vibrating, booming presence of power, all around her, everywhere. It was no longer a torrent of horrible voices, impressions slashing through her mind like thousand knives, or horrible images. It was somehow… tamer. And it filled her with strange strength. She looked up in amazement.

"This is how it feels?" she asked, astonished. The two Sith exchanged smirks and led her down the corridor. Accepted as a student or not, they thought, she did not lose her sense of humour. "No, I have just been standing in the dark for too long," she muttered to herself, at what the Sith started laughing.

With a pang, Larynthe was reminded of what happened by the throbbing pain in her forearm and she halted, drawing back the sleeve of her cloak. She nearly fainted. Her skin was deformed and her whole forearm was bleeding, so that it was impossible to see the actual branding mark.

"It will heal with time," remarked Lady Tarralyanna.

"I shall lend you my Gurgroot paste," growled Lord Tammutyen, eyeing Larynthe's forearm with fascination. "It will ease the process of healing."

"Now, come," said Lord Tammutyen, gripping Larynthe under her arm. "We shall take you to your chambers."

"But…" mumbled Larynthe, feeling quite helpless as the monumental Sith dragged her further down the corridor. "I live the other way! There!"

She was pointing a hand in the direction of the Northern Wing, whereas the two Sith shook their heads, exchanging smirks.

"Not any more," said Lady Tarralyanna.

"Peetah has prepared new chambers for you," spoke Lady Tarralyanna as she led her down the corridor of the Western Wing, heading for the stairs. Larynthe's new chambers were on the second floor, they knew that, because they heard sounds coming from upstairs, as furniture was being dragged inside and moved around the rooms. The door which had been locked until now were now wide open and the three of them stepped inside.

"You will get used to the heating system in Temple," said Lady Tarralyanna, examining the torches. "It is very effective. Oh, look, Peetah managed it after all… I told her to make new clothes for you, so that you would have at least something to start with, but I did not believe she had time for it, with preparations and all."

She approached a pile of clothes stacked neatly in an open closet. Larynthe followed her, still feeling as though she was dreaming.

"She knows what you like, I suppose," said Lady Tarralyanna, glancing over a shirt which Peetah made for Larynthe with distaste, looking slightly disappointed. But, of course, she thought, tastes differ. Larynthe stared at it for a moment and then sat down on a tripod, her hands hanging between her knees. All of this had been too much for her.

"What is wrong?" asked Lady Tarralyanna, coming over to her after examining her wardrobe. Lord Tammutyen had disappeared in the bathroom, eager to see it for himself. "Do you feel unwell?"

Larynthe looked at her. There was a definite change in Lady Tarralyanna's attitude toward her. Now she was looking at her with friendliness she had seen on her face only when she was talking to Lord Tammutyen.

"What have I done?" whispered Larynthe, feeling as though someone had dropped a block of ice into her stomach. "What have I become?"

"You _are_ unwell," remarked Lady Tarralyanna, glancing over her and feeling her forehead with her cold hand. Larynthe allowed this, feeling emotionally numb. "Even for an Albinian and a former Jedi, I reckon you are a bit too warm."

"Tammutyen," Lady Tarralyanna called loudly. There was a muffled answer from the bathroom. "Could you go and fetch your fever paste? I daresay Tyananna needs it."

"Oh, Holy Force, what have I done?" whispered Larynthe, her chest trembling as she finally realised what happened. She was a Sith. Before she knew what she was doing she threw herself at Lady Tarralyanna, who slowly embraced her back. Her whole body trembled as she cried.

"If it brings you any comfort," Lady Tarralyanna whispered into her ear. "You have done the only thing you could have done."

Larynthe sobbed her heart out on her shoulder, not really caring about what was happening around her, and the Sith held her patiently, tapping her gently on the back. Lady Tarralyanna made a study of human emotions and she tracked down Larynthe's quickly enough. Proud of this accomplishment, she smiled to herself and comforted the shaking fallen Jedi.

Once Lord Tammutyen was back with a whole pot of paste, Lady Tarralyanna smeared it all over Larynthe's forehead, hands and neck and cleaned her branding mark with a wet towel.

"I suggest bed," she said, glancing over Larynthe and putting the pot with paste aside. "And do not try to eat. That will only make things worse. Draw up the curtains in her bedroom, Tammutyen, please."

As Larynthe was led into the bedroom, she could not see a thing. It was in complete darkness. Larynthe felt Lady Tarralyanna lift up a hand and the torches came alive one by one, beginning to emit welcome, powerful waves of heat, though their flames were not visible.

"Now go to bed," said Lady Tarralyanna, getting to her feet and giving her one last reassuring tap on the back. "That is by far the best thing you can do now."

Larynthe stared at her, at loss for words. Their manners, the way they treated her now… There must be a catch there somewhere, she thought.

"No catch, Tyananna," whispered Lady Tarralyanna, seizing Lord Tammutyen around the waist. "You are a Sith now and this changes everything. Do not forget that."

("Good night, Tyananna,") called Lord Tammutyen in Sith from the doorway, before Lady Tarralyanna dragged him out. She could hear them walk toward the entrance door and she heard it close with a gentle click. Silence fell on her chambers and for a long while Larynthe could not move. She simply sat there, staring at the place where Lady Tarralyanna had been standing a few moments ago, her brain empty and numb.


	30. Chapter 29 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

It's a long chapter, I know. But it seemed so wrong to split it in two parts.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXIX – Dark Desires

Larynthe slept and slept. She had no idea which day it was, nor did it really matter. Her dreams were strange and she woke up several times to go to the bathroom, only to return to her bed once again, not seeing any point in being awake. She was not aware of the heavy locket around her neck, nor was she noticing the ring that the Dark Lord slipped on her finger. Nothing mattered, in her emotional numbness, and she did not care about anything at all. She awoke for the tenth time to stare at the black curtains, the torches still burning as wildly as they have burned when Lady Tarralyanna ignited them, filling her room with warmth. Was it the Dark side, emotional exhaustion or shock, she felt cold despite of it and sank deeper into her pillow.

A distant shut of the door roused her and she looked up, her head feeling heavy. Her bedroom door slowly opened, and the curly hair of the old Malaskian loomed up in sight. Larynthe was relieved.

"You awake, miss?" she asked. Larynthe nodded wordlessly.

"I have brought you food, you can eat now. I have made you panic-cakes," she said, smiling down at her. Pancakes were Larynthe's favourite food, and she smiled at this thoughtful gesture.

"Pan-cakes, Peetah," she corrected her wearily, rolling aside and meaning to get out of bed. Her stomach growled impatiently as the scent of pancakes and marmalade permeated the room.

"I do not know how your people manage it," the Malaskian said, bustling around Larynthe and placing the tray on her knees, obviously ignoring that fact that Larynthe wanted to get out of bed. "They always glue to my barbecue. But I have figured out what to do about it, too. You will see. The panic-cakes will get better and better."

Larynthe was at first very surprised to learn that Peetah did not know what a pan was. She spent years using barbecues for frying, whereas she cooked in cauldrons. This is how the Sith liked their food – and this is how Peetah made it.

She smiled at Larynthe once again and glanced over her, her eyes moistening.

"Your forearm is bleeding, miss," she whispered, reaching out for her hand. The sight of her mutilated skin nearly made her drop it. "He has branded you, too. Oh!" She covered her mouth with her hand and stared with reverence at the ugly mark. Larynthe wished she would not.

"Here," she said, grabbing a silk handkerchief and hastily wrapping it around her forearm before Larynthe had the chance to protest. "That will take some time to heal."

"I have some root paste Lord Tammutyen brought," Larynthe said, chewing. She already felt better when she started eating the warm pancakes. They still tasted a little different than was she was used to and Larynthe was certain that Peetah smeared hazelnut oil over her barbecue so that the pancakes would not adhere to it.

"Ah, yes, my husband's Gurdroot," she said, nodding, "That is well. It will help, you just keep putting it on."

"I have made new clothes for you, have you seen it?" she went on, leaving Larynthe to eat and turning to the wardrobe, glancing over its content with pride. Larynthe was about to say that they were hideous and that she would not wear something of the sort if it was the last thing to wear on Horukaan, that it looked like a mixture of funeral clothes and nightdresses, but the look of pride on the old woman's weary face dissuaded her from it.

"Yes, they are beautiful," she heard herself say, grateful that the old Malaskian could not read her thoughts, like the two Sith could.

"I thought I got the idea what you would like," Peetah said, puffing up her chest like a proud mother. "The silver makes them look really nice, does it not? Very hard to sew, though. But it makes the clothes glitter and Lady Tarralyanna really likes it."

"Well, I shall leave you eat in peace," she said, brushing her hands against her apron – she always wore it and had a habit of using it instead of a towel – and looking around herself, as though wondering whether there was anything else she might do there.

"Do not go, Peetah," said Larynthe, raising a bloody hand. The old woman halted in the doorway, staring at her. "I could use a bit of company."

"Well," breathed Peetah, flushing. "Of course; I can stay if you want me to."

She sat down on a chair and smiled at Larynthe, settling down as though she was getting ready for an interrogation and looking extremely uncomfortable. Larynthe noticed that her manners toward her changed; and she regretted that. Peetah was the last bit of humanness in this strange, cold world of the Sith, their schedules, their duties, their rage, their lack of emotionality, aggressiveness and their inveterate habit of dissecting of every single sensation and impression right down to the very core.

"Peetah, why have you said that this was why I have come here?" Larynthe asked the question which had been troubling her all night. "I could not stop thinking about what you said."

"Oh, miss," breathed Peetah, looking shocked. "I am sorry. I did not want to disturb you!"

"But why have you said that? Why do you think so?" persisted Larynthe, smearing marmalade over her pancake. Peetah paused a little before she answered.

"My Lady and her Lord brother have been chosen among millions and millions living on Horukaan," she said quietly. "He could have chosen many instead of them – but he chose the two of them. They have been meant to be great from the start. But, although people in general do not know anything about him, about the Dark Order, growing here and flourishing…"

She took a deep, encouraging breath and continued.

"There were those who reached out for him, through the Dark side. There have also been some Jedi, yes, miss, some Jedi who thought about it often. And he heard them; he hears everything. But he did not take them. He took you instead. And you appeared in the Unknown Land right as he was there and he took you. You were destined to come here, do you not see that, my good miss? To be taught by him."

"And why have you said that he would protect me, care for me?" asked Larynthe.

"He always cared for Lady and Lord," said Peetah, as though surprised a little with her question, again nervously brushing her hands against her apron. "When he accepts you, he cares for you."

"But, miss," she went on after a pause during which Larynthe was pondering this and preparing her next volley of questions. "He took Lady and Lord to a meeting and he would sure want to see you after that, to start teaching you. When you finish eating, I will help you get dressed."

For Larynthe had simply scrambled out of her sad'khai and crawled under the bed covers, not caring about the fact she was sleeping naked. She let out a bitter snort.

"I do not think I could do anything today," she said. "My arm hurts and I have a splitting headache. And I still have… some things to think about."

"But, miss," breathed Peetah, a sudden note of hysteria in her voice, "You cannot think like that! When he calls you, you go, you do not even consider not going! Miss, do not think of displeasing him!"

"What could he do to me?" laughed Larynthe, making the old woman whimper. "Torture me? I know for one he would not kill me."

"Oh, do not speak like that, child!" wailed Peetah, writhing her hands. "Please, please do not speak like that!"

She slid off her chair and crawled toward Larynthe, tears streaming down her round, pink face. Larynthe stared at her, suddenly losing her appetite.

"Pray, promise you would go! That you would obey him! You do not know… good miss… you have no idea… what he can do… how he punished my Lady for disobedience when she was little… she was a child, she did not know, and yet he punished her… I cried myself to sleep for weeks, my poor Lady… please, you have to realise, he has no mercy when one disobeys him, he would do… awful things to you. And you are too good and too brave for something like that. You are clever, miss, I know that; you must know that disobedience will lead you nowhere!"

She was sobbing at the foot of Larynthe's bed, who was now staring at her with a mixture of pity and shock. So far, she had been obedient. She had done all he told her, made her sword and wrote her oath, and she behaved well at the Ceremony, doing exactly what the two Sith told her. She had not yet had the chance to see his other face. She tapped the old woman's hand and smiled at her from above.

"I promise, Peetah," she said softly, at what the old Malaskian smiled, grabbing her hand and kissing it with relief.

"You eat," she said, sniffing and wiping her face with her apron. "And I shall get your clothes ready."

"You do that," said Larynthe absent-mindedly.

"I just remembered," Peetah said, turning to Larynthe with her freshly laundered sad'khai in her hands, watching with satisfaction as Larynthe swallowed one pancake after another, what told her that she was enjoying her cooking. "You must have a new name. You have not told me!"

Larynthe furrowed her brow, trying to remember. She looked down on her medallion, turning it over. There were Sith glyphs at the back of it and she quickly read them.

"Yes," she said quietly, glancing over the glyphs. "Tyananna."

Peetah squealed and covered her mouth with her free hand, almost dropping Larynthe's clothes.

"It fits you marvellously!" she exclaimed, tears of happiness coming to her eyes. She turned around and bounced away. Larynthe did not think the name was beautiful, quite on the contrary – she hated it. She turned over her medallion once again and stared at the glyphs. What does this name mean, she asked herself? She would ask Lady Tarralyanna. A strange symbol was engraved at the front of the medallion. Larynthe had never seen it before, but she knew it was one of the symbols depicting an aspect of the Dark side. How she knew this, she could not tell. Intuition? She reached out with her hand to pull the chain over her head, but at that moment something occurred to her. It was a gift, and the Dark Lord himself obviously made it for her. She would be a fool to disregard his gift and thus show him disrespect.

As Larynthe stared out of the window, wearing a clean sad'khai and tying up her hair, she set her eyes on two familiar figures. She recognised Lady Tarralyanna by her walk – she was climbing the stairs leading to the side entrance into the Temple, which led straight into the Western Wing where two of them also had their chambers. She turned around, gesticulating wildly and pointing at something in the distance. Lord Tammutyen had just emerged from behind the fountain, his hands tucked into his cloak, walking with a swagger. Suddenly he ran at her and she darted into the Temple, letting out an excited yelp and laughing. The door shut behind them. Larynthe could not see the Dark Lord and she wondered where he was, thinking that he was perhaps caught up with something.

But, as she was drinking coffee with Peetah and explaining to her how coffee was made in the Jedi Temple, Lady Tarralyanna appeared in her chambers, carrying a tottering pile of books.

"Master requested your presence, Tyananna," she said breathlessly, nodding at Peetah.

Lady Tarralyanna led Larynthe to the training hall, believing that Larynthe had no idea how to get there, given where her new chambers were, and she was quite right. This part of the Temple is even more sepulchral than the rest, she thought, glancing with disgust over the animal skull display as she followed Lady Tarralyanna who mistook her disgust for awe.

"What are those?" she asked her, pointing at the pile of books she was carrying.

"I am starting a project and a need the books for my calculations," she said, rearranging her pile as she walked. "The Dark Lord wants to build a bridge across the narrowest bit of the Gorge. And he gave me the task of making the necessary calculations. It will serve as a very good practice."

She beamed at her. By the sound of it, it was a grand project for at least a few people to work on. However, Larynthe would have expected architects to work on it and not Sith warriors.

"You can do that?" she asked. Lady Tarralyanna laughed.

"But of course," she said with a smile. "That is my field of expertise. I have made the calculations for your sword, remember?"

"Oh, yes," said Larynthe, thinking about this. "Yes, I forgot."

"Well, there you go," Lady Tarralyanna said, nodding toward the tall double door leading to the training hall. "Good luck."

She turned and headed in the direction of the library, the tottering pile of books bobbing in her arms as she walked.

"Thanks," Larynthe called after her. She quickly turned the knob and entered the hall.

The Dark Lord was seated at the bottom of the room, head bent over a small bound book. He did not look up when she entered. Larynthe gulped and thought back about what Peetah told her. She was contemptuous and bitter, too reluctant to act like a perfect little Sith marionette, but fear got the better of her.

"You have asked to see me," she said quietly.

"I have," said the Dark Lord, neither putting away his book, nor looking at her.

Larynthe approached him slowly, trying to list all reasons why he might be angry with her, because he _did_ look angry. But perhaps he does not need a reason to punish his students, she thought. Everything was different when she used to be Lady Tarralyanna's pet. Now he had power over her. Ridiculous, she thought, all the while still staring at his hood with a growing sense of unease. She lowered herself to her one knee, thinking that it was the best idea at the present moment, and only then did the Dark Lord put away his book, lean aback and regard her seriously.

"I do not know what they have taught you at your Jedi Temple," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "But one addresses a teacher and a mentor with 'master'. It is, if nothing else, a gesture of politeness and it means showing respect for those more powerful and wiser than you are."

Larynthe felt as though some stabbed her through her stomach. Of course, she felt exactly the same way about her old teacher, her old master, and now found herself feeling a little guilty.

"I am sorry, master," she said. If she had been told that she would be saying these words half an hour ago, she would have laughed at the person and called him a madman. And yet the Dark Lord did not force her to say them, nor did he torture her in order to make her say them – he simply stated his arguments and made her say it herself, out of her own free will.

"Several things have to be clear, right from the beginning," he went on, not yet telling her to get to her feet. "You are to come on time when and where I call you. You are to respect the dress code of the Sith of old at those times, thus honouring their knowledge and their wisdom. You are to address me with appropriate respect and to obey me without bringing my orders into question. For I know what is best for you, and I know where I am leading you. It is you who are blind and deaf in the Dark side, and I am to be your guide. Is that understood?"

Larynthe could think of nothing else, but to affirm. There was an air of finality in those words and a distinct note, not of a threat, but of something far, far worse. He nodded at her.

"You may rise," he said curtly. Larynthe uncertainly got to her feet, wondering what would happen now. "Sit on that pillow over there, Tyananna."

He pointed a ringed hand toward a plain, black pillow, which lay on the floor beside him, and she headed there, sitting down as though getting ready for meditation.

"We shall start with Force manipulation exercises. I shall teach you how to work with the Dark side, because it is very different from what you have been doing up to now," he said.

And as he began to speak, to actually lecture, Larynthe found herself listening at his melodious, clear voice explaining the nature of the Dark side to her and nearly missed a few sentences, so caught up she was with it.

"Rage," he spoke, "is controlled anger. Anger, as you know it, is a wild beast; and in the hands of those prone to it, it is more than just that. But, by strengthening our will, we gain control over our emotions, and thus, anger as well. We can perceive when it awakens; and we use it and control it with our will, without suffering from the negative consequences of it, like anxiety, self-destructiveness or even fits of dementia. Thus rage can, with practice, be summoned at will and used. As you unleash your Rage, the Dark side answers and obeys you. It senses strength in you, the strength to control it, and it answers. The Dark side respects and honours courage and will and despises weakness, insincerity and laziness."

He gave her several exercises and watched as she practised, her brow furrowed in concentration, as thoughts like 'I feel no anger, I feel no anger' kept floating through her mind. Even though she made a lot of mistakes, the Dark Lord explained calmly what she did wrong each time and Larynthe tried again. He never said he had such an ability as the one he just described, and yet Larynthe could not doubt it – power was written all over him.

"I want you to take a diary and start filling it with your reports on anger," he concluded their lesson.

Larynthe thought her first lesson was not all that horrible. Actually, it explained several aspects of the Dark side and the whole anger control issue would probably help her – at least she would cease amusing Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen with her outbursts. It was her ability to control it and summon it at will (whatever that meant) she doubted.

"You will write down what you were thinking about at the time, which impression, which feeling, which word or sentence have provoked the feeling of anger," said the Dark Lord. "And be honest with yourself, Tyananna. It would be pointless to try to lie to yourself."

"Meditations are cancelled until I say otherwise," he went on. "You shall spend your evenings here instead, stretching and working with your M'Hoor. Tomorrow morning, you shall come here together with my apprentices and I shall show you basic exercises which will help you get to know your sword. You first need to get to know it in order to be able to do anything with it."

"Why is all of this necessary?" he asked, voicing her thoughts. "Because it would be like training a toddler to sprint. He first has to learn how to stand firmly on his feet; then, how to walk; and then he can start running, but that is not the end of it, either. What you wish to accomplish requires profound knowledge of the Dark side and its principles and you need to work on several things at the same time, in order to speed up the process."

"I understand, master," said Larynthe very quietly.

He waved her away, and soon Larynthe was walking down the endless corridors to her chambers, thinking about everything she experienced and heard. He had been very patient with her. He explained everything to her and he did not lose his temper even when Larynthe failed to do what he asked of her for the third time, like Lord Tammutyen did. He even answered her most intimate thoughts and he answered them not with contempt, but with an air of a teacher who wanted to have everything clear before he started teaching her.

oooooooooooooooooo

However, she suffered a shock that afternoon when she sat waiting for Peetah to bring her lunch. Larynthe was ready for a big lunch and was hungry like a wolf, thinking about her old chambers in the Jedi Temple and the little cupboard where she used to keep cookies, crackers and all sorts of snacks. The Jedi, even if they knew, turned a blind eye to it. Peetah, however, would always take the leftovers with her and thus make it impossible for her to keep something. When she entered Larynthe's dining room, the old woman looked a little stiff and worried for some reason. And when she placed the tray on the table, Larynthe could see why.

"I am sorry, miss Tyananna," she said in a small voice. "His orders. He wrote down a list of things you may eat and gave it to me."

"What?" Larynthe gasped, glancing over the content of the tray. Soup, a piece of meat of an unfamiliar animal and something brown, all cooked and emitting a nasty, sour smell. "But I am starving!"

"You will have to make the best of it, child," said Peetah quietly, placing the bowl with mushroom soup in front of her.

"What else has he forbidden to me?" Larynthe snarled, reaching out for a spoon.

"He knows what is best for you, my child, even if you do not," said Peetah tearfully. "You will see. You will start feeling excellent."

"So _he_ thinks I am fat, too?" asked Larynthe, who was now wolfing down her soup, wishing she could just take the bowl and pour the soup unceremoniously into her mouth. "I am on Lady Tarralyanna's diet, am I? If I am, I am not going to survive."

"Oh, no, child, no," said Peetah quickly. Larynthe snorted, thinking she said this just to make her feel better. "Lady Tarralyanna has a special kind of organism. She eats fruit and lake and sea plants. But she cannot eat meat, oh no, no meat for her."

"Lake plants?" Larynthe mumbled, already finished with the soup and now shovelling the brown vegetables into her mouth.

"Yes, floating leaves and their flowers," said Peetah, placing an ewer with fresh water on the table. "I do not know the Albinian name."

"Water lilies?" asked Larynthe. Peetah shrugged – she had no idea what they were called in Larynthe's native language. Larynthe shuddered, revolted. Poor Lady Tarralyanna, she thought! Eating water lilies – what else?

"And Lord Tammutyen?" she asked.

"Oh, Lord eats flesh only," said Peetah, nodding. "We breed it for him, he eats a lot."

"That is a little rigorous," said Larynthe, who was nearly done with her vegetables, which she found very tasty, despite of their gloomy appearance. "It is unhealthy to eat either vegetables only, or meat only."

"Do not worry, miss Tyananna. You will start feeling very good soon," said Peetah softly.

"Coffee is not out of bounds, is it?" Larynthe asked sarcastically, swallowing the cooked meat and reaching out for the soup bowl to slurp down all that was left of it, now leaving her manners behind, along with her patience.

"No," said Peetah, watching her. "I have brought you a whole pot of it. I made it exactly as I make it for Lady and Lord."

"Too strong, that is," Larynthe sighed, glancing over the table and concluding with regret that she ate everything in less than five minutes. "At least that."

"He has not forbidden me to walk around the Temple, has he?" she asked as she tasted the extra strong coffee Peetah brought her.

"He has not told me anything concerning that," Peetah admitted.

"Good," said Larynthe. "Because I am just dying for a bit of fresh air."

"You have the new cloak I made for you," said Peetah, jumping up and heading for Larynthe's dressing room. "Very warm."

"It is Fiery Season, Peetah," said Larynthe with a snort into her coffee cup, bringing it to her lips and listening to the noises coming from her stomach, which was telling her that it needed more food.

"But, dear, you are a Sith," said Peetah, lifting her eyebrows at her. "The Dark side will always make you cold."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Why is it necessary to exercise so much control over his students, over his apprentices, Larynthe asked herself as she paced the corridor overlooking the garden? Why is it so important what one eats? She could understand that perhaps the two of them really had strange constitution and that only certain types of food were allowed – but Larynthe?

As she walked, her feet sinking into the rich black rug, it occurred to her that she now had the freedom to roam the Temple. Something wonderful occurred to her – this meant she could prowl around the library. Even if the two were there, she could still pick any book she liked. She could always say that the Dark Lord told her to read it. Thus she tried to find the library and after a few dead ends managed to find the way, stumbling in the process across Lady Tarralyanna's chambers. Her name was on the door, written in black Sith glyphs and she glanced over it with interest. Why did she have her name on the door?

Lady Tarralyanna was in the library, buried behind a mass of parchment and books, her nose an inch away from a large sketch of a bridge, which was filled with figures and symbols. She greeted her with enthusiasm, thinking that Larynthe came here to work on her Sith, on her own, out of her own free will. Thus Larynthe walked among the shelves, picking books on Sith and bringing them to her table, after what Lady Tarralyanna paid no more attention to her and got back to her work. Larynthe glanced over the shelves which reached the ceiling (there were a few ladders here and there), and at the labels in Sith sticking out of rolls of parchment. 'Ancient Sith history', read a label glued to the bottom of one shelf, with years written under fat scrolls. 'Second Age, Year 2612,' read one of the last scrolls in line. Larynthe looked around herself, noting that Lady Tarralyanna was muttering to herself and that she was engrossed in her work, and reached out for the scroll. She brought it back to her table without any problems, because Lady Tarralyanna was too immersed in her work to notice what she was carrying. It was in Sith, of course, but Larynthe learned enough Sith to be able to read and understand, even if intuitively. It was the speaking that was giving her headaches.

'_Memoirs of the Dark Lord Ka'Th'Spaa,' _read the title in black ink. Bursting with curiosity, Larynthe leaned forward and began to read.

"_War is natural; for mortals shall always wage wars. With themselves, against each other, with the weather; even with petty existential problems. But this war was necessary. Under the threat of war, races began to unite against me. This should have been my great victory; the world of Horukaan could have been mine, the Dark side's servant, and it could have been its home. But even at the peak of my power, I have not believed it. My strength did not fail me; nor were my enemies too numerous. But this was not the time for the Dark side to rule the world. However, I am comforted with the thought that I have trodden down the path I shall leave to my apprentice to follow, for him to tread one day and to travel to the end of it. He shall succeed, if I have not; but I had to fail first, I had to fall, in order that he might rise. I have given this sacrifice to the Dark side willingly and I have fulfilled my duty. I have trained my apprentice in all I know and more than that. With the support of the Dark side, he will rule Horukaan as it should have been from the start."_

"_I have withdrawn into the Land of the Dark side not because I was wounded or dying, as some believed. I have withdrawn because my work was done. I have done what I had to, and could thus die in peace, end my life on this world and pass into the Dark side. But I have gotten one last mission from my master, the Dark side – that I should find another apprentice and train him, to be my successor and the voice of the Dark side. And thus I have done. I have waited for years, for centuries, tormented by the existence beyond flesh, waiting, lurking, hoping. At long last, my waiting paid off. It was a young man, curious about the Dark side and strong with it; his talent and his abilities did not fit description of the person I was looking for, but the Dark side helped. I have forged him into a powerful Sith, moulded him into the warrior I wanted him to be, and he shaped according to my will. His fate was sealed, and he gave his Oath to fulfil his destiny. Only then was my Work complete."_

"_The fall of the Dark armies in the Land of Glyswath was expected; and though the general was furious, beside himself with despair, I knew it was going to happen and that it was inevitable. He did not listen; he accused me of treason and threatened to kill me. Mortal fool! I have thus disposed of him, for he was more a threat to my cause, than help. The non-Sith have never been meant to rule the world; only the warriors of the Dark side have that privilege and this has been our fate, since the dawn of times. For weakness cannot command, it cannot rule; it can only project its phobias and fears onto the world and thus destroy it. Horukaan needs a firm guiding hand, and it could have been mine. Some day, the Dark army shall rise again and Horukaan shall belong to the Dark side. And upon that day, all of the deceased Sith who died in the service to the Dark side shall be honoured and be given a chance to exist in the world once again, if they choose so. And upon that day the power and glory of the Dark side shall be seen and heard in every thunder, in every howl of wind, in every raging thrash of the sea, and the Dark side shall be feared and honoured."_

"Brushing up on history?" Lord Tammutyen asked behind Larynthe's back. She jumped so high she nearly knocked over her opened ink bottle. Lady Tarralyanna chuckled, but did not look up from her work, thinking that Tammutyen was merely teasing Larynthe.

"You should use your senses, Tyananna," he said seriously, seemingly not noticing what she was reading and wagging a finger at her. "But I suppose this means that your concentration is improving."

"I wish," Larynthe said, staring at him breathlessly.

"Have you read all of the historical scrolls?" he asked nonchalantly, nodding toward the shelf. Larynthe shook her head quickly, thinking that was the right answer.

"A pity," he said, a little disappointed. "They are very interesting. It is our legacy and you should learn about your roots."

"Lord Tammutyen," she detained him, right as he was about to leave. He did not seem to mind she was reading the memoirs of a certain Dark Lord. "I could not ask you a few questions, could I?"

"Of course you could," he said, pulling up a chair and eagerly interlacing his fingers on the table. "About Sith words? Something you cannot understand?"

"Well, yes," she said, thinking that he was probably reading her thoughts, and, a little unnerved, pointed at a short word.

"Glory," he said, nodding. "Mem'Phah. The Albinian word unites two Sith words. This one means greatness, everlasting existence, a celebrated name. Whereas the other word, the one you know, stands for glory in battle. Meaning – prevalence and victory. This word is used very often when one speaks about the Dark side. We say 'its Glory' when we want to emphasise its eternal existence, its greatness and its might."

"Now that I think about it," Larynthe said slowly, voicing her thoughts, "I think that the logic behind the many words describing different aspects of things makes a lot of sense."

"Quite," Lord Tammutyen laughed. "I have always thought that Albinian was awfully confusing and very ambiguous. It took me a great deal of time to learn how to pack many words into one. But I suppose that it is easier than the other way round."

"Who was the Dark Lord who wrote this? Do you know?" she asked tentatively.

She expected Lord Tammutyen to say that he could tell her that, but to her surprise, he merely lifted an eyebrow and flashed a smile at her. It occurred to Larynthe that being accepted as a Dark Lord's student opened all doors and she was beginning to see the merits of it, even if it merely meant being able to sleep through the night and not have any more nightmares.

"You do not?" he asked softly. "Ah, I suppose you could not have heard of him in the Jedi Temple. People never speak his name, even those who know it, you see, because they are afraid. He is the Dark Lord who led the Dark armies the Great Second War."

"Yes, I understood that much," said Larynthe, excited. "But he speaks of passing into the Dark side, as though he was planning his death as he wrote his memoirs."

"He did not write the memoirs," said Lord Tammutyen, giving his characteristic, loud laugh. "Our Master did, through mediumship with him. The spirit of the Dark Lord dictated to him and he wrote. Master wrote all sixty scrolls."

Larynthe's jaw dropped. She knew that it was possible to consult with the spirits of the deceased Force-users, but she did not believe it was possible to actually hear distinct words and write down what the spirits conveyed to one.

"Get to know your roots, Tyananna," Lord Tammutyen said, getting to his feet and tapping her on the shoulder. "Read the memoirs; and after that, proceed to the Sith Code."

"Who wrote it?" asked Larynthe.

"The first Sith who ever lived," answered Lord Tammutyen. "Over the centuries, it got many additions and Master gave his own contribution as well. You will find that the Sith code is the very core of his teachings; laws and principles listed in the books exist beyond space and time, with the Dark side as it is. Conveyed into words, using parables the living can understand, they are sacred books to a Sith. Tarralyanna and I know most of them by heart; but the language used is strange and it is perhaps at first hard to see the meaning of allegories used. Thus if you get stuck, do not hesitate to ask us for help."

He departed toward his table, pulling out his large volume on anatomy and burying himself in it. Larynthe carried the scroll back to its shelf and put it carefully back on its place, reaching out for a thick, black leather-bound book entitled 'The Sith Code – Volume One.' Lady Tarralyanna was rocking in her chair with her quill stuck between her teeth and watching Larynthe carry the book to her table with an expression of glee on her face, what Larynthe did not notice. But Lord Tammutyen and she exchanged surreptitious glances and Larynthe only looked up when she sensed the Dark side around them. They were once again using the Dark side to speak to each other. Tarralyanna gave her a warm smile and then lowered her glance on her sketch once again.

Larynthe found the book fascinating. She took it with her to her chambers and continued reading. The Sith was more than hard to read, but she could sense the secrets lurking from the depths of the book, and forced herself to read on, looking up words when she got stuck. After a while, she came to the conclusion that this was probably the best course in Sith she could have taken and thus did not feel guilty for neglecting her Sith studies. The following words haunted her throughout that day and as she went to bed, she could still hear them spinning in her mind, spoken by the Dark Lord's melodious voice.

_A servant of Darkness is a slave to no one and to nothing. He is a master of his own flesh and blood and he is pure will, using the power of the Dark side to shape his world and the world around him. _

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Every morning at the same time a gong would resound through the Western Wing and the first morning Lord Tammutyen came to fetch Larynthe for training. The following morning, however, she was left on her own. She grudgingly put on her sad'khai after a bit of trouble and made a tardy appearance in the training hall, where Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen were already swapping places with their weapons in hands. The Dark Lord was there, sitting in a corner, and Lady Tarralyanna gave Larynthe a quick look of sympathy as she entered. Larynthe approached the Dark Lord and lowered herself before him, wondering how late she actually was.

"You are late," he said icily.

"I could not find the training hall, master," Larynthe replied.

It was the truth. She ran to make up for the time she spent tying up her sad'khai when she noted how late it was, but she took the wrong turn and ended up in the Northern Wing. It took her some time before she retraced her steps and found the training hall. Those stupid corridors!

"My apprentices cannot guide you around the Temple all the time," said the Dark Lord coldly. "You would do well to remember the routes to all important halls and places."

"Do not be late again," he said after a pause during which Larynthe was staring at her feet.

Even without the 'or else' line, his words were intimidating enough and Larynthe decided to sleep in her sad'khai so that she would be able to get here on time and to make Lady Tarralyanna draw her a map of the Temple. The Dark Lord pulled out a wooden version of her sword and gave it to her, while Larynthe listened to the loud clanking of the Saragon's chain behind her.

"Here are a few exercises for you to begin with, which you shall be doing in the morning and in the evening," he said, taking it again from her after she inspected it. He spun it in his one hand for a few times, then passed it into his other hand, leaning forward and spinning it behind his back and over his head. Larynthe noticed these were the same exercises Lord Tammutyen always did before he started his training, so the exercises were not anything new for her. She stared at the Dark Lord's fingers, which were a blur as he spun the wooden sword. When she asked him how to accomplish this, he started explaining it to her, at the same time however making it quite clear, even without explicitly saying it, that he expected her to understand and to master this. There could be no talk of failure.

Thus Larynthe spent the following two or three hours – she lost track of time – in dropping her wooden sword or smacking herself on the back of her head with it. The Dark Lord watched her with the corner of his eye, interjecting only a few comments on what she was doing wrong and giving suggestions. In the meantime he was watching his two apprentices practise. When it looked as though they were done, he simply pointed at the box in the corner and they understood immediately. Lord Tammutyen picked it up, carrying it toward the centre of the hall, whereas Lady Tarralyanna was standing on her one foot, holding her other leg in her hand and pulling it up to her head. Larynthe hoped that the Dark Lord did not expect her to be able to do _that._ Did she have any bones at all?

The content of the box turned out to be small daggers without proper hilts, which the two Sith soon began flicking at the board on the other side of the hall with their eyes closed. Lady Tarralyanna laughed as Lord Tammutyen's dagger collided with one of her own. The longest of the long trainings was concluded in Lady Tarralyanna's spins on the horizontal bar and Lord Tammutyen's somersault series, which made Larynthe seriously dizzy. At long last the Dark Lord nodded at them and got to his feet.

("I expect you three to have lunch with me,") he said loudly.

With that, he left the hall and the door closed behind him with a loud snap.

("Have you seen…?") Lady Tarralyanna said as soon as he was gone, pointing at the board with daggers protruding from it. Lord Tammutyen let out a roar and grabbed her by the waist, turning her upside down in the air. This was their usual game – they liked to tease each other and chase all over the Temple, acting like children. Larynthe was too used to it to be surprised.

("What does he mean, lunch?") she asked.

Thanks to their constant tutoring and her own efforts, she began to speak Sith, although her grammar was still lousy. However, now that she could understand quite a bit, she figured out why the way they spoke baffled her – they would often shorten words or make one out of two. But after she picked up the cases in which this could be done, she began to understand them, more and more with each day that passed. The two Sith were rolling on the floor and Tammutyen was holding Tarralyanna by the ankle, whereas she was too busy laughing to try to break free from his grip.

("He means he wants us to have lunch with him,") she said, still laughing. ("No! Get off!") She kicked Tammutyen in the face and Larynthe rolled her eyes. ("You should wear something nice, like one of those robes Peetah made for you, and Tammutyen and I will come and fetch you. Hey!")

Lord Tammutyen jumped up, landed atop of her with a low growl and pinned her to the floor.

("No, keep your teeth away from me, you beast, you had enough!")

Larynthe listened carefully to their bickering. Perhaps they thought she would not understand them, but Larynthe remembered him biting her wrist in the water garden and she swallowed, thinking about this. Somehow she did not want to ask a direct question.

("Does he often have lunch with you?") she asked as Lady Tarralyanna managed to get up, panting and brushing her hair away from her face, with Lord Tammutyen pointing a finger at the spot on the floor while propping himself against his elbow, daring her to come back.

("Only when he has time,") Lady Tarralyanna replied.

Lord Tammutyen jumped to his feet from the lying position, turned in the air and grabbed her throat from behind. Lady Tarralyanna let out a muffled yelp, but she grinned nevertheless.

("He did it often when we were young,") she uttered through her teeth.

She quickly bent forward, lifting Lord Tammutyen in the process, and punched him hard with her elbow in the face.

"Ow," he moaned, releasing her and rubbing his head. ("Mighty Darkness, that was damn good.")

("Thank you,") Lady Tarralyanna replied with dignity, pulling down her shirt and beaming at him.

"My fingers have gone all numb," Larynthe complained as they started putting the daggers back into their box. "I will never learn to turn my sword with one hand!"

"Do not say that," said Lady Tarralyanna in a low voice. "Master would be very cross if he could hear you."

"Here is one of my exercises for it, which I invented as a boy," said Lord Tammutyen, wiping off his bare chest with a towel. Larynthe stared at his scar, but decided that she did not want to inquire about it at the present moment. "You take a short stick and do this." He picked up a stiletto and it started moving up and down in his hand. Larynthe leaned over and watched, furrowing her brow. He slowed down so that she could see what his fingers were actually doing. Then she exclaimed. It looked as though he was playing an invisible guitar.

"Ooh, I see," she said, surprised with the simplicity of the exercise and with the actual technique. "It looks so easy!"

"Yes, I am sure it does," Lord Tammutyen laughed, turning his back to her. He sniffed and looked around himself. "But…" He trailed off and stared at Larynthe as though he had seen a ghost.

"What did I say?" she asked quietly, thinking at first that she said something wrong – as Larynthe would always blame herself first – but then it occurred to her that he was perhaps unwell.

"Tammutyen?" Lady Tarralyanna called to him, coming around and trying to take a look into his eyes. Larynthe would have thought that she would ask whether his head was all right, because that was quite a hit he took, but she did nothing of the sort.

"It is… nothing," he said, his eyes suddenly becoming glassy. "But…"

Uncertain whether to say it aloud and how, he turned to Tarralyanna and used the Dark side to convey his troubles to her. She sighed and fixed her glance at Larynthe. Larynthe shook her head, not understanding what was going on at all.

"She has an Albinian constitution, Tammu," Lady Tarralyanna said, glancing over Larynthe. "Tyananna, are your bodily cycles functional?"

"What do you mean?" asked Larynthe, feeling very stupid indeed.

"I mean, does your body undergo monthly preparations for pregnancy?" Lady Tarralyanna asked seriously.

"What?" asked Larynthe again. It was only when Lord Tammutyen pointed at her belly that she began to understand.

"Oh," she said. "Yes! Yes, I suppose it started this morning. Bad luck, eh?"

Lady Tarralyanna was staring at her with interest, as though hoping to ask more questions on the issue. Lord Tammutyen, however, seemed to find this very disturbing and he moved away, breathing deeply.

"I shall go," he said in a strange voice, heading for the door and not looking back.

"Is it me?" Larynthe asked, staring after him. "Is it something I said?"

"No, Tyananna," Lady Tarralyanna said softly, glancing over Larynthe's belly. "His senses are very sharp. I expect he smelled you."

"Oh, Holy Force," Larynthe muttered, lifting her arm and sniffing her armpits. "I do not smell that bad, do I? I did sweat out a couple of gallons, I suppose."

"The blood," Lady Tarralyanna said patiently, smiling. Larynthe looked up in amazement. "Do not be so surprised, he has an acute sense of smell . But tell me about it – it happens periodically, right?"

Larynthe suppressed a laugh with utmost difficulty.

"It does not happen to you?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"I have told you that Master took care of that when I was a child," said Lady Tarralyanna. "However, I am unsure whether my body would function the same way even if he did not."

A horrible thought occurred to Larynthe and she froze as its meaning filled her with cold dread. She looked at Lady Tarralyanna with her lip trembling.

"You do not think… that he would... want me to... get rid of it?" she whispered in a fearful voice. "I mean... I have no intention in... there are no Albinian males around here! And I really do not care about men!"

"I do not know," Lady Tarralyanna replied placidly. "But if he wants to do it, he will do it, one way or the other. I heard that females can sense it coming – is it true?"

Her raw, childish curiosity was driving Larynthe mad. She sensed another anger outburst coming and she took a deep breath.

"Only because we feel like eating more than usual and because we get a little nervous," Larynthe said. "Which explains why I have been so dreadfully hungry over the past few days. And a little on edge."

"Cycles are very important," Lady Tarralyanna remarked wisely. "I suppose I feel the need to have cycles, too. This is why Master made calendars for us, divided trainings into parts, so that we can work on certain skills one day and on other ones the following day. I guess I will never cease dreading the Geem'Tah Day – it is when we do strength exercises. It used to be a nightmare when I was a child. But I think it is just fascinating to actually have a cycle within your own body."

"Do you think I should mention it to him?" Larynthe asked.

Geem'Tah, she remembered from her Sith studies, was the fourth day of the week, associated with the planet Geem'Tah, of course.

"Perhaps if he knew I had no intention of running after men he would let me be."

"Why is it so important to you?" Lady Tarralyanna asked. "If you do not have any interest in reproduction, why worry about it at all? I do not understand."

"I would never be able to have a child, if he does it, however he is doing it," Larynthe said, a little nettled. She noted the contradiction in her own statements herself and it annoyed her.

"Yes, so? What does it matter? You are a Sith now; why would you want a youngling, if you can have the Dark side? Is having a child so much more important to you, than the Dark side, than Master's teachings?"

"Who says I cannot have both?" Larynthe asked, avoiding the answer.

"It is impossible," Lady Tarralyanna snorted. "When would you take care of it? I have been a student of the Dark side for twenty-four years and I still have a schedule which gives me very little free time. I bought a flute ages ago and I still have not gotten the chance to learn how to play it. Being a Sith does not merely mean being able to use the Dark side. One has to _live_ the Dark side. To such a sincere and zealous seeker, it shall uncover its secrets. But to a dabbler, it will not, and it will only toy with him, until it gets bored. Then the dabbler is doomed."

"And if, when you go through the Ceremony of the Coming, you still feel the need to have a youngling, you can always take one from someone else and have Peetah take care of it, for you to play with it if Master allows it, or whatever it is that you would want to do with it," Lady Tarralyanna went on.

"Having a child is not about having a _thing_ to play with," Larynthe said, calming herself down with difficulty. "It is about playing out my role as a female. It is about having a successor, my own flesh and blood."

Lady Tarralyanna lifted an eyebrow at her and paused in her walk.

"Your role and your purpose," she said indignantly, her eyes flashing at Larynthe, as though she just mortally offended her, "is to serve my Master and the Dark side. All other roles are irrelevant."

ooooooooooooooooo

A few hours later, staring with a sour expression at her reflection in the mirror, Larynthe was standing quite still while Peetah was busy with her hair.

"Your hair will be a challenge for my husband," she murmured, shaking her head in disapproval. "It will never lie flat! What to do with it?"

"Nothing," Larynthe smiled. "Just make a ponytail. That is what I always do."

"That will not do, miss Tyananna," the Malaskian mumbled, sprinkling her wild flower oil over her hair once again. "It is a Sith custom. And it has to be honoured."

Larynthe sighed. It was all about customs, principles and rules… Even her hair was misbehaving. She grinned.

"Well, it will have to grow! That will solve the problem. I shall bring you my husband's hair growth serum," Peetah said. "But until then, this is the best that I can do."

Larynthe stared at her reflection. Her hair was forcefully combed aback and was drenched in large quantities of wild flower oil, which surprisingly only made her hair look a little moist. Peetah used five hairpins to keep the most stubborn locks away from her face, whereas the rest of her hair was falling down her shoulders, as stiff as broom twigs.

Lady Tarralyanna appeared in the doorway, beaming. She was wearing a stunning dress made of satin, which reflected the light as she moved and an elegant black cloak which nevertheless had a hood. The Sith seemed to love hoods, Larynthe observed. Her hair was falling down her front like a shiny black-violet curtain.

"Good work, Peetah," she said, nodding in approval as she glanced over Larynthe. "The robes you made for her fit her very well."

"Thank you, my Lady," Peetah said, glowing. "I have done exactly as you told me to."

Lady Tarralyanna approached Larynthe, who was frowning at her reflection in the mirror.

"Why do we have to wear dresses?" she asked grumpily. "I will never be able to walk in this thing."

"I would not exactly call it a dress. We call it robes. Have you never worn them?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Peetah did a good job making robes which would accommodate all your lumps."

Suddenly Lady Tarralyanna leaned forward and poked Larynthe in the chest with a look of apprehension. Larynthe jumped.

"What are you doing?" she asked her, not knowing whether to be offended or to laugh.

"Does it hurt?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, staring at her.

"No, but…" Larynthe started but then she burst into nervous, high-pitched laughter. "You want to touch my breasts?"

"I never had those," Lady Tarralyanna said. "It is only natural that I am curious."

Larynthe laughed again and sat down, waving a weary hand.

"Oh, you will never cease to amaze me," she breathed, checking her hair. "All right, touch if you like. One of these days I will get a heart attack, I swear."

Lady Tarralyanna ignored her and leaned forward, poking again. She withdrew her hand with an expression of disgust.

"It… wobbles," she said through her teeth, looking as though she was forced to swallow oil. "It is moving!"

"Yes, well, there is no helping it," Larynthe said. She wondered whether little Tarralyanna tried to finger Peetah as well and chuckled. Lady Tarralyanna was speechless for a moment, thinking about this.

"And do they move like that when you run or jump?" she asked.

"I daresay they do," Larynthe answered, chuckling.

"It does not trouble you?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, staring at her with disbelief and pity.

"There is nothing I can do about it, really," Larynthe said, shrugging, "It is constitution. I am an Albinian female and we have breasts."

"I am sure Tammutyen knows how to get rid of them," Lady Tarralyanna said, sitting down beside her and taking out a cigarette. She eyed Larynthe's breasts with apprehension and glanced down her flat front, as though to check whether she had also grown lumps on her chest overnight. She breathed with relief. "We can ask him."

Larynthe chuckled again as an answer and got to her feet when Peetah brought her cloak, draping it over her shoulders. She stared at her reflection.

"I look horrible," she said.

"Only because of all your lumps," Lady Tarralyanna said, smoking avidly. "But I guess it is just the way you look."

"Shall we go? I am starving. Whatever it is that we have for lunch, there would better be a lot of it," Larynthe said.

"I would not bet on it, Tyananna," Tarralyanna said, casting a glance through the window. "But let me just say one thing. Do not be alarmed if Tammutyen acts a little strange. He is unwell."

"So he is ill, after all, " Larynthe said. "I thought so."

"Your bodily cycles are driving him mad," Lady Tarralyanna said thoughtfully. "But he will come around."

"Why does it concern me? Why is my period driving him mad?" Larynthe asked as they walked together down the corridor, heading to the grand dining room.

"The smell of your blood, that drives him mad," Lady Tarralyanna said patiently. "It makes him so hungry. But now he will have lunch, so he should be all right."

"He does not… like it, does he?" Larynthe asked, disgusted.

"Of course he likes it," Lady Tarralyanna said, snorting, as though this was understandable by itself.

They did not have the chance to continue this discussion, as Lord Tammutyen was waiting for them in front of the tall double door, looking strangely absent-minded and staring at his feet. Lady Tarralyanna nodded importantly to Larynthe and opened the door. The table set in the centre of the dining room was the strangest dining table Larynthe had ever seen. It was egg-shaped and four chairs have been placed around it. The tablecloth was black and there were four small black candles for each of them. Thinking how it could not get any sepulchral than that, Larynthe headed to the place in the middle, as shown by Lady Tarralyanna. She was about to sit down when it occurred to her that the other two Sith were still standing and looked at Lady Tarralyanna. She shook her head.

They stood so for some time. At the sound of the opening door, Lady Tarralyanna tugged at Larynthe's cloak and lowered herself to her one knee. Larynthe did the same, staring at the pair of feet which approached the table.

("You may sit down,") she heard the Dark Lord's voice.

Larynthe tried not to sit on her robes as she pulled her chair to herself and sat down. There was a clank of silverware as the Malaskians brought food into the dining room and began placing it on the table. In the Jedi Temple there was usually a heap of food occupying the middle of the table and everyone was free to eat whatever they wanted. Here it seemed as though everyone had his or her own food and the trays and bowls were placed before each one of them, not in the middle. Cooked vegetables or not, Larynthe was starving and was waiting eagerly to be allowed to start eating. For a brief second the three Sith placed their hands on the table with their palms down and Larynthe remembered Lady Tarralyanna talking about this custom. She quickly did the same.

It was once the Dark Lord's hand reached out for his fork Larynthe looked up. What she saw made her jump in her seat; the chair wobbled and Larynthe lost her balance, crashing to the floor along with her chair with a frightened yelp. Unfortunately, atop of all she got tangled in her cloak and just could not get it out of her face. She heard Lord Tammutyen snigger as Lady Tarralyanna freed her and pulled her back to her feet. She was wearing a curious expression on her face, a cross between amusement and pity.

("What is it, my student?") the Dark Lord asked softly, leaning forward. ("What have you thought, that I was a three-headed monster? Or perhaps that I had no face at all?")

Larynthe lowered her glance once again, too shocked to speak. It was the first time she saw the Dark Lord without his hood on and what she saw both surprised and frightened her. He did not have horns or red eyes; and he certainly had a face. His noble features and his pale skin were so strangely flawless, that Larynthe could think of only word to describe them – inhuman. But his eyes – so dark they were almost black – seemed to bore into her very soul and she could almost see the Dark side flashing in their depths.

("Now, I daresay you have enough strength with the Dark side to do this,") she heard him speak.

She looked up. Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen lifted their hands, as though preparing for a Force manipulation exercise. Simultaneously, three round fruits – or what looked like fruit – landed on their plates. There was only one left in the bowl. Larynthe's. She lifted a trembling hand and reached out for the Dark side. Inwardly praying for her concentration not to fail her and for the Dark side not to decide that it would be about a good time for play a prank on her, she reached out with the Force hand for the fruit and it slowly floated toward her, landing on her plate with a soft thump.

("Sanguae,") spoke the Dark Lord quietly, ("are a symbol of who we are. The trees grow on precipices and on rock, stubbornly existing where nothing else dares and manages to exist, and persevere in all weather conditions. And yet the fruit is shaped to represent the perfection and power of the Dark side. It represents the power to shape one's world in order to achieve what one wishes. This is a Sith ideal – and by eating it, you are symbolically getting closer to that ideal.")

Larynthe listened with her heart beating very fast. For some reason the Dark Lord without and with the hood on seemed to be two different people, although his voice and the power seeping from him were painfully familiar. The scarlet fruit was oddly tasty and Larynthe wondered whether there were Sanguae trees in the vicinity of the Temple. They might even help her get through her diet.

At long last the Dark Lord started eating his lunch and the three followed his example. For once food was not on Larynthe's mind.

("I got news from Gangar,") the Dark Lord said once they were done with their meal, looking around himself.

Lord Tammutyen devoured what seemed like half of a goat, barely roasted, dripping with blood. Every now and then he cast strange glances in Larynthe's direction, what was making her slightly uneasy, bearing in mind what Lady Tarralyanna said about him. Lady Tarralyanna seemed to have enjoyed her mushrooms and was sitting with her goblet in hand, looking very relaxed and full.

Smoking seemed to be quite popular among the Sith and Larynthe wondered why. Soon the hall was thick with smoke coming from Lord Tammutyen's cigar and the Dark Lord's pipe. Larynthe was certain she would soon have smoke coming out on her ears, if they all keep at it.

If Waak could only see this, she thought! If he could only see the Dark Lord of the Sith right now! All of their theories about him were useless. He did not fear the sun, he had no red eyes or horns, and he was not miserable or bitter. A few months ago Larynthe thought she learned enough about the Sith to be able to give an accurate description of them and talk about their habits and customs, about their beliefs. But now it occurred to her that she did not know anything at all.

("The shipment has been accepted,") the Dark Lord went on, whereas the two listened with interest. ("Everything is going just as I predicted it would.")

("I do not doubt my allies,") he went on. ("No. They have sworn their allegiance and I know they will stand by me. But I would not be so sure about their people.")

("Master,") Lord Tammutyen said, ("do you believe they would rebel against the decisions of their leaders?")

("Fear is a powerful ally,") the Dark Lord said thoughtfully, spinning his goblet. ("One should never underestimate it. If this proves to be the case, then, my apprentices, you shall step in. You shall remind them of the power of the Dark side and show them that a promise to the Dark Lord is not easily broken.")

("With pleasure,") Lord Tammutyen said eagerly. Tarralyanna nodded solemnly as well, whereas the Dark Lord smiled.

Larynthe had no idea what they were talking about and she caught a few phrases which she understood but sill she could not make head or tails of this story. She figured they were talking about some allies and what to do in case they did not keep to their promises. She decided to ask Lady Tarralyanna about it.

("Do you know why I have not made you my apprentice, Tyananna?") the Dark Lord asked suddenly, looking straight at her. Reluctantly, she shook her head. She had no idea what to say.

("Because the Dark side did not approve,") he answered his own question. ("The bond between a master and an apprentice goes beyond the simple oath to follow my teachings. Your oath demands of you only that you learn from me and that you grow in the Dark side. An apprentice is so much more. He promises so much more but is also given much more in return. The oath runs deeper.")

("However,") he went on, eyeing her, who was bating her breath, ("You still seem unprepared for everything that an apprenticeship would bring you, but you can try to prove yourself and to prove to the Dark side that it was wrong in its estimate.")

Larynthe was painfully aware of three pairs of eyes which were staring at her. The Dark Lord was giving her a choice? But she already got more than she bargained for; she merely wanted to learn how to return to the light side and she definitely did not want to immerse herself in learning about the Dark side. Or did she? Normally, she would have run off screaming 'no' but she was locked in this strange hall with the three Sith, and the Dark Lord was staring at her and giving her a choice. He did not try to force her to do anything, though he easily could have. There was something very odd about the way he said it – it felt as though he sensed her emotions and heard her thoughts as she looked at him for the first time without a hood, and mistook her shock for the desire to be closer to him. But, with a guilty pang, she realised that he was partially correct. The Dark Lord intrigued her; and she actually began to enjoy her lessons.

("I am not sure I understand what that would encompass and what would be different,") she said quietly once she gained control over her own voice. She just piled up the Sith words one atop of the other and hoped the Dark Lord understood.

("It means,") the Dark Lord said slowly, pulling at his pipe and watching her carefully, ("that I shall share not only my teachings with you. For instance, a student would not have been able to attend this lunch. He learns and then he departs to his chambers – he does not socialise or engage in idle conversations with his teacher. However, I often speak to my apprentices and they come to me for advice. We speak about issues which do not concern their training and whenever I have time, I have either lunch or tea with them.")

He leaned a little forward and Larynthe felt compelled to look up. Suddenly she wanted it… so badly… for him to speak to her, to share his secrets with her, and she wanted so badly to tell him about the sorrow which had been eating her from the inside ever since she came here; and she wanted to drink in that mysterious, strange power emanating from him. Larynthe no longer blamed him for her captivity, for Waak's murder or for the fact she could no longer use the light side of the Force. And a part of her suddenly sincerely desired to be closer to the Dark Lord. In his presence she felt a sort of a mixture between fear and attraction to his power and she hated herself for it.

("Your thoughts speak in your stead,") said the Dark Lord with a hint of a smile. ("You only need to say 'I swear'. And I shall consider the matter settled.")

Larynthe stared at her hands and at the beautiful ring that he gave her. She felt a wave of panic pervade her as she realised what she was turning into. She knew very well that the concept of power mislead a few good Jedi and good people and that the greed for power could twist one's mind. However, neither Lady Tarralyanna nor Lord Tammutyen were irrational or greedy for power. On the contrary, it turned out that Larynthe was the one who was being irrational. And this chance to learn more and to be closer to that mysterious man was something Larynthe – in that moment – did not want to miss. She knew she was being impulsive and that she did not weigh the pros and cons; but after all, she did promise she would follow his teachings. Everything else would be a bonus, right?

("I swear,") she whispered before she knew what she was doing. The urge to do so was just too strong.

("Good,") the Dark Lord said, leaning aback. ("Tonight I must work; but tomorrow after lunch, I want you to pay me a visit in my study.")

As Larynthe nodded, she felt guilt boiling inside her. Has she fallen into the same trap as those few Jedi before her? What was it that she actually wanted to accomplish? She should accomplish what she wanted and leave. But a part of her could not do that. A part of her could not just leave the Sith Temple in the dead of the night, while everyone slept, leaving the three Sith behind. For her it would be betrayal of the worst possible kind. Yes, they were Sith; and they were dangerous. But they also took care of her and helped her. Peetah treated her as though she was her own daughter, took care of her and made clothes for her; Lady Tarralyanna gave her advice and taught her Sith in her free time; Lord Tammutyen sat day in and day out with her while she was making her sword and corrected her Sith pronunciation. And the Dark Lord... The Dark Lord was a mystery and Larynthe realised she WANTED to stay there and learn from him. That she wanted to discover secrets of the Dark side and get to know this strange Sith world which was so different than her own that she felt as though she landed on a different planet. Larynthe felt like crying and screaming at the same time, but deep within she knew that she wanted to stay and that she was looking forward to the Dark Lord's lessons.


	31. Chapter 30 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Capri: thanks for the review! Yes, I need to work on character development (even though I'm sure people are waiting for some action, and there's going to be action, don't worry) because they are my characters and I want to introduce them properly. But the point of the whole thing is the Sith philosophy.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXX - Breaking

When Larynthe returned to her chambers, she sat down on the edge of her sofa and thought long and hard about everything. The Dark Lord did not force her to do this, nor did he force her to go through the Ceremony of Birth. He did not force her to call him master or to wear Sith clothes. She did all of that willingly. Why? What made her do it? Was the Dark side egging her on? None of this would have happened, she thought bitterly, if the light side did not turn its face away from me. If the light side was still with her, she would have already escaped the Sith Temple ages ago and rode across Horukaan to the Jedi Temple, to give her report on the Sith.

But despite of the fact that she could run away any moment she felt like it – for there were no guards and Larynthe was certain that she could just walk out of the Temple during the night and that no one would know until morning – she could not do it. Because of the Dark Lord? Whenever the thought of escape flashed through her mind she remembered the Dark Lord and she felt paralysed.

She gave him her promise at that wretched lunch because of what he said. He believed in her, that she could justify his trust in her and prove to the Dark side itself, who did not believe Larynthe was strong enough to be his apprentice, that she could do it. And for the first time in her life, Larynthe rose to the challenge. And this gesture of his touched her, played the strings of her heart and made her give him her promise. What did he mean when he said 'share my secrets'? Larynthe could learn a bit more. But what was troubling her was the fact that she felt she was sinking deeper and deeper into the Dark side like like a careless traveller being swallowed by quicksand. She felt she was losing herself and that she did not know who she was any more.

If she remained trapped in this painful status quo, she felt, she would go mad. She had to either succeed at getting back to her side of the Force, or die trying. Thus she would go as far as she had to, to accomplish this. In the end, what did her suffering matter? What did it matter, to be forced to endure training in the Dark side, if she could bring something back to tell the Jedi Council? She would have been a hero. But, would they listen? This was a worm which was eating all her plans and she kept reminding herself that the Sith had no real knowledge about the Jedi and how they functioned. Lady Tarralyanna was full of knowledge, but she learned everything from books. However… if the Dark Lord once used to be a Jedi, he would know. With her heart hardening, she thought she should try and ask him.

But after a disastrous training that morning and after Peetah wrapped up her injured arm (she cut herself with the wooden M'Hoor), she was not at all inclined to face her fears. She felt it would be far safer and far more comfortable to remain in her chambers, just thinking about it all and studying Sith. However, Lady Tarralyanna knocked on her door and inclined her head at the wide Malaskian shirt Larynthe was wearing when she opened the door.

("You are undressed, Tyananna,") she said, pointing. ("Is your sand-clock not working?")

("It is working all right. Why?") Larynthe asked, letting her in and heading back to her study. Lady Tarralyanna glanced over the content of her table and frowned.

("It is sixth Luth hour,") Lady Tarralyanna said impatiently, as though she had better things to do than to explain to Larynthe what time it was. ("Master said you should visit him him in his study after lunch. This is it. I shall take you to his study, if you would be so kind as to get up from that wretched table and put on something decent.")

Larynthe looked at her with apprehension, noting the annoyance in her voice and headed toward the wardrobe, feeling somehow compelled to do it as Lady Tarralyanna's eyes, which were fixed on her, seemed to be burning with rage. Lady Tarralyanna snorted as she watched her rummage around for clothes and at length pull out her Jedi robes.

("You cannot be thinking about wearing _that_,") she sneered.

("Why not?") Larynthe asked, shrugging. ("It is clean. And besides, I am not going to a training.")

("Look,") Lady Tarralyanna said, crossing the room in a few quick paces and grabbing the shirt Larynthe was holding. ("It does not matter what you wear when you are alone. But you are a student of the Dark Lord. You are a Sith. And you should dress accordingly. It means showing respect, if nothing else. You do not have to wear the sad'khai if you hate it, but your clothes should be clean and black.")

("I hate black,") Larynthe said, keeping her temper in check. She seemed to have learned how to deal with Lady Tarralyanna, who lifted an amused eyebrow.

"Oh?" she asked, now getting interested. ("Why, I wonder?")

("Wearing black is like wearing funeral clothes,") Larynthe said. She reached out for the most un-Sith like bit of black clothes in her wardrobe and threw it over the back of a chair, taking her shirt off.

("That is the point,") Lady Tarralyanna said exasperatedly. ("The black colour symbolises devotion to the Dark side and reconciliation with the concept of death.")

Larynthe laughed and put her clothes on, thinking about what she was going to ask the Dark Lord, now feeling compelled to go (there, again, she thought! They persuade me to do things!). The more she thought about it, the less she liked her options or what the future had in stall for her.

("You are very interesting, Tyananna,") Lady Tarralyanna said as Larynthe put her trousers on. ("A walking contradiction. And yet you seem to reconcile all contradictions and come up with something new and unexpected. I wonder how you do it?")

("A mystery,") Larynthe answered, picking up her cloak. ("Well, I am done.")

("Good,") Lady Tarralyanna said, leaving her chambers and turning to face her in the corridor. ("I need to go to the town with Tammutyen – but I thought I should pick you up first. Now, remember which turns we take, so that you would be able to come back on your own.")

("Oh, for the love of Darkness,") Lady Tarralyanna muttered as they passed a window. She pulled back the curtains and peered through them, with Larynthe leaning over her shoulder. She was certain she heard someone running and saw a cloud of feathers rise over a small coop, where animals were kept. A second later, Lord Tammutyen ran across the courtyard, chasing what looked like a winged lion. They disappeared behind a pile of stones which were used to reinforce the walls around the Temple.

("What _is_ he doing?") Larynthe asked, laughing.

("Amusing himself,") Lady Tarralyanna sighed. ("Chasing animals to get their blood was his favourite sport when he was a boy. But I would have thought that he outgrew this childish habit.")

("What does he do with it when he catches the animal?") Larynthe asked, almost dreading the answer.

("Drinks it, of course,") Lady Tarralyanna said. ("You ask the strangest questions.")

("And you give me the strangest answers,") Larynthe said, staring at her. ("What do you mean, drinks it? He actually swallows it?")

("Of course he does,") Lady Tarralyanna said dismissively, pausing in her walk and fixing her glance upon Larynthe.

("Is it possible that you do not know?") she asked, her sapphire eyes boring into Larynthe. She shrugged. ("No one has told you? That brother is not human?")

("I know that,") Larynthe said impatiently, feeling as though she was talking to Lord Tammutyen, who still sometimes talked to her as though she was a child. ("You are not either, as far as I remember. But I do not see you chasing animals around the courtyard so that you could drink their blood.")

Lady Tarralyanna stared at her fixedly for a few more moments and then cackled.

("Now I understand,") she said, amused, resuming her walk. They have just passed through the quadratic hall and headed through a tall, narrow black polished door Larynthe had never been through before. The corridor was very narrow and after a while it took a sharp left turn.

("Tammutyen is a Kyo'tan,") Lady Tarralyanna said quietly, leaning toward Larynthe as they walked.

("A what?") Larynthe echoed. Lady Tarralyanna did not answer straight away. ("Let me see. 'Kyo' would mean a being, a creation.")

("Creature,") Lady Tarralyanna corrected her.

("And 'tan' means night,") Larynthe said quietly, thinking intently. ("So, it means, the creature of the night.")

("Exactly,") Lady Tarralyanna said, coming to stand before a large statue of the Dark Lord Ka'Th'Spaa which her Master had made and placed in a small antechamber right before the entrance to his tower, thus honouring him as a teacher and a master. There were several other interesting artefacts in the chamber, but Larynthe's attention was preoccupied with other things.

("He feeds on blood,") Lady Tarralyanna said, leaning toward Larynthe and pointing at the label under the statue, which read his name in Sith. ("But Tammutyen managed to learn how to eat meat as well. With Master's encouragement, of course.")

("Is that the Dark Lord who is mentioned in the memoirs?") Larynthe asked, pointing at the statue of the Sith.

("Yes,") Lady Tarralyanna answered, leading her toward the spiral staircase and pointing her finger upwards. ("His study is on the first floor, on the first landing, that is. Knock and good luck.")

She turned to go, still smiling to herself. Larynthe opened her mouth to ask another question about Lord Tammutyen, but she waved off as the Lady Tarralyanna's black cloak whipped around the corner and out of sight – she could walk really fast, Larynthe thought. She looked at the spiral staircase with a sense of foreboding. She had no idea what she was going to say. And she had no idea what the Dark Lord wanted to talk to her about.

She began to climb the winding staircase, craning her neck to see how far up they went and concluded that there must be at least three more floors. Torches burned every few paces, illuminating the bare stone walls. She paused before an iron door with the knob shaped as a serpent and hovered with her hand over it. Suddenly the door creaked open and Larynthe started. Obviously the Dark Lord sensed she was standing before the door and opened it for her. After a moment of lingering, she stepped inside.

His study was the strangest place Larynthe had ever been to. The Dark Lord sat behind a large desk, holding a tube with a pair of tongs over a small flame. This was the first thing that Larynthe noticed when she came in. He lifted a finger in the air, indicating that she should wait. Larynthe nodded and looked around the study.

Books, strange boxes, cauldrons, ticking instruments, golden tubes, gleaming spheres; all that occupied the wooden shelves. The only window in the circular room was closed and black curtains were drawn over it. She could not see the Dark Lord's face, for his head was hidden behind an enormous volume he propped against a figurine of a dragon. Before she could glance over the strange ticking instruments in the corner of the room, he put the tube away, corked it and waved a hand at the flame, which extinguished with an obedient poof.

("You came,") he said. ("I was doubtful.")

Larynthe lowered herself to her one knee, staring at the legs of the table which were shaped as claws with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach – anticipation and excitement. Even the claw-shaped legs of his table seemed powerful and mysterious, she thought. She inwardly shook her head, wondering what had gotten into her. As he told her to sit down, she wondered once again why she came. Surely not to stare at the Dark Lord? She tried to convince herself she had really forgotten about their meeting, but the truth was, it was all she could think about. And now that she was finally there, her very skin was prickly with excitement.

("Tell me, Tyananna,") the Dark Lord spoke after a long period of silence. ("How is it that you have imagined me?")

("You see, I am one of the few Dark Lords of the Sith that ever lived,") he went on, examining his nails. ("But the people of Horukaan, as far as I can remember, have only seen one and they described him as a monster.")

("So tell me, Tyananna, how have you imagined the Dark Lord of the Sith looked like?") he repeated his question.

("Horrible,") she mumbled as she thought about what Waak and she talked about. The Dark Lord chuckled. Apparently he found her mental images very amusing.

("Go on,") he said, drinking from his goblet. ("Describe.")

("A cross between a dragon and a serpent,") she said, aware of how stupid this sounded, just because she said it aloud. It must have been his objective in the first place, to make her say it aloud and realise just how stupid it sounded. ("Red eyes, pointed teeth, horns… and a forked tail.")

("Interesting, how imagination works, is it not?") he asked airily. ("Why do humans think that powerful, strong beings have to look terrible? What do you think?")

("Because we fear them,") Larynthe said at length. The spicy scent hovering in his study was making her dizzy.

("Yes,") he said seriously. ("You fear what you do not know anything about, what is powerful and what can harm you. But there are powerful Jedi, I am sure. Have you ever been afraid of a Jedi?")

("No,") Larynthe answered, thinking. ("Well, yes, but not in a way that I would imagine he had horns and a forked tail hidden underneath his Jedi robe.")

She laughed, trying to imagine her old teacher with a forked tail. Impossible.

("So, humans fear the unknown and they fear those who are more powerful than they are,") said the Dark Lord. ("And it is interesting to note that the Jedi fear the Sith – or their idea of who a Sith is – because they do not know anything about us. But they also fear our power.")

("But what I find so interesting about you, Tyananna, is the fact that you do not fear the Darkness as most Jedi do,") he went on after a pause. ("You observe it; you watch it; and yes, its horrors frighten you, but this is only to be expected from a mind untrained in the Dark side. But, essentially, you do not fear it. Because you feel quite comfortable with what you are. This is changing, however, and the Ceremony of Birth is for the most part responsible for it. You will need to find yourself once again.")

Was the Dark Lord praising her? Larynthe had already grown accustomed to trying hard and getting little or nothing in return. It was just the way things were – the Dark Lord was very demanding and Larynthe was not perfect. What he said made her feel better and she smiled, glancing over the various tubes and flasks which littered the small, rough table drawn up to his desk. And she wondered for the umpteenth time what exactly he was doing.

("That,") the Dark Lord said unexpectedly, ("plays a vital role in an experiment I am currently conducting. I am making invigorating solutions, which would enable the drinker to recover his strength and clear his mind. My apprentices suffered from overwork and exhaustion too many times and I know they wished they had something that could help them to get back on their feet, so to speak. Apart from coffee, that is. You must have noticed they are quite addicted to it.")

He reached out for a corked tube which contained a strange brown-green mud-like liquid and held it up. Larynthe stared at it.

("That can be done?") Larynthe asked, feeling very stupid.

("Of course,") the Dark Lord said, putting the tube away. ("One only has to know how. However, I am having problems with my apprentices' constitution. I need to develop the solution so that it would fit their constitution and thus be more effective. Lord Tammutyen's was not exactly hard; but Lady Tarralyanna's is becoming a problem.")

("I daresay you found the views of my apprentices on your companion's death shocking and quite unacceptable,") he said, looking straight at her. ("But after years of working with the Dark side one changes one's views on death. One sees it as freedom, liberation from the prison of flesh and blood, from all desire. But your sorrow has taken on a different shape. And I want to hear all about it.")

Larynthe was taken aback by this request. She sat silent for some time, before it became quite obvious that the Dark Lord was waiting for her to speak, as he settled himself comfortably in his chair with his pipe and surveyed her across the desk.

("I began viewing the matter differently after I have seen what they have to do; what they go through every day,") she said slowly.

She knew that he could easily know whether she was lying and thus decided on the truth. Because of that; and because she wanted to say aloud all that had been troubling her for so long. The Dark Lord was quite right.

("How they have lived their lives and how much they respect you. You have ordered Lord Tammutyen to kill Waak; and he did so. But I am wondering, Master – what would you have done if he disobeyed?")

("Theoretically,") the Dark Lord said slowly, smirking. ("He would be tortured. For how long? It would depend on his repentance. But punishment would be, of course, very severe. For direct disobedience, the Sith of old have claimed the apprentice's limbs; but I have more modern methods. He would be not be of much use to either me or the Dark side with only one hand or leg. Prolonged pain has proved to be a more effective method over the centuries.")

Larynthe listened, horrified. He was speaking about it so easily, so lightly, and she remembered the way Lady Tarralyanna spoke about death and her Master's punishments. Her throat went dry as she remembered that she promised she would act as his apprentice, too. Thus this would apply to her as well. Prolonged pain?

("The Dark side would be very eager to help, of course,") he went on airily. ("However, physical pain alone would not have the desired effect, because my apprentices have been trained to endure pain and rise above it. It would be best for me to focus on torturing both his body and his mind, because it is a powerful combination which can break one. However, to answer your question, although I would apply my own methods of punishment, they would not have an effect on Lord Tammutyen. The worst that I could do to him would be to scold him.")

("But do I sense fear in you, Tyananna? Why? Is disobedience on your mind?") he asked.

("I have not done anything to displease you, I hope,") Larynthe heard herself say.

The Dark Lord smirked.

("Inciting fear through this method of punishment is the sole purpose of it,") he said, sounding amused. ("For fear is our greatest enemy, and our greatest ally. It takes many years of hard work to overcome it, to conquer it; and even then the battle is not over. Until the Ceremony of Coming, that is. Then one can say that he or she is fearless.")

("I do not believe that is possible, Master,") Larynthe said slowly. ("Fear is a part of us. It is what makes us human.")

("You, you mean,") said the Dark Lord. ("But we are not human, you forget.")

So he admitted this himself, she thought – what was he then, if he was not human?

("However, it is possible for you to become fearless, too,") he said softly. ("How? I know the secrets of the Dark side; and I can disclose them to a zealous and sincere seeker.")

("How long would it take me to accomplish that?") Larynthe asked, tempted. The Dark Lord did not lie, she knew; and what he was offering her was as fantastic as it was remarkable. She began to consider possibilities and what would this would bring her. To be fearless...

("It is impossible to say,") he said, watching her carefully. ("For my apprentices were mere children when I began teaching them, while you are a grown-up. But perhaps this fact can even prove to be a mitigating circumstance.")

("Contrary to what you might think,") he went on after a pause during which Larynthe was pondering this. ("I have not changed my mind, nor have I used some fantastic means to bind you and make you serve me, not paying attention to your wishes. I am a teacher in the Dark side; and I accept students who have been found worthy by the Dark side itself. But I have not forgotten your sole desire; and I am going to honour it.")

("Can I ask something?") Larynthe asked suddenly. ("Why? Why do you want to help me? And how come you never punished me, not even when I was late for my training?")

("You have not disobeyed me yet,") the Dark Lord said. ("And after you were late for your training, you did not repeat the same mistake again. Am I right?")

Larynthe nodded slowly. She could feel power emanating from him and spreading through the room in intoxicating waves, filling her with the desire to be with him a little while longer, to listen to him speak.

("Do not think I have not ascertained myself of the validity of all of your statements – you cannot lie to me and expect that I would not know. And consequently, I know about your little drinking party you had the night prior to the Ceremony. My apprentices knew they could not pull a veil over my eyes; but they have done their best.")

Larynthe stared at his ringed hands which were now caressing his bejewelled goblet. His black hair stretched like a dark curtain toward the floor and Larynthe stared at it, transfixed.

("And I have chosen not to remark on it, as it helped you write your Oath. As to why I have agreed to teach you,") he went on, not looking at her any more. ("I have told you why. It was the will of the Dark side. I am its servant; and I execute it.")

("But, but,") Larynthe started again, abandoning all pretence and writhing her hands. ("You are the Dark Lord of the Sith! You are not… supposed to... help! Or be nice!")

He stared at her for some time and sighed.

("The fact that I am the Dark Lord,") he said quietly, again with a caress in his voice, ("means that I am a master of the Dark side; it means that I have mastered it in this life, in this flesh. I am the only teacher in the Dark side on this world. I am sorry I do not fit into the description you have been given at your Jedi Temple. I am as you have gotten to know me, until one crosses the line or disobeys. Thus – I hope I do not need to tell you – it would be very wise of you not to displease me.")

His features hardened and he clenched his jaw, at what Larynthe quickly bowed her glance. She did not doubt that his punishment would be more than traumatic for her. The fact that she had not yet had the chance to experience it, meant nothing. She got a very good impression of his ingenuity when it came to different methods of punishment from Lady Tarralyanna's stories.

("By accepting my offer,") the Dark Lord went on, ("you have pledged yourself to be more to me than my student. I cannot say that I am not pleased, for despite of what my apprentices think, despite of what even you think, I know you are a worthy candidate for an apprentice. Yes, I know. The Dark Lord knows.")

He smiled and glanced away from her, giving his pipe a quick pull and gazing almost absently at his numerous shelves.

("I have once been a Jedi,") he said. Larynthe stared at him in amazement. ("Oh, yes. But their doctrine never really found a place in my heart. It was too… flawed. There were too many holes in their logic and in their teaching for my taste. But it was perhaps the blind adherence to some principles which would be betrayed as soon as the Jedi sensed fear what made me turn my back on the Jedi forever. Yes, fear. They swear to non-violence, to humanness, to mutual care; and yet at the same time, if they met my apprentices, knowing they were students of the Dark side, and if they had a chance, they would kill them before they could defend themselves. Because they are Sith; because they fear them.")

Larynthe's jaw dropped. This was exactly what she once told Waak – what could this possibly mean? Was she as evil as the Dark Lord was? Or was this yet another instance in which her uncanny connection with the Dark side was showing?

("Have you never felt that way, my apprentice?") he asked, looking at her. Larynthe trembled as the dark eyes fixed upon her.

("I have, my Master,") she heard herself say.

Something snapped within her and it snapped hard. This happened for the greater part because he called her his apprentice. Somehow when he used the word it had a deeper meaning than when her old master used it. The Dark Lord meant it – and to call someone his apprentice was not just an empty word. It was a promise. It was a promise of power, greatness and growth in the Dark side.

("I am not saying that the teachings of the light side are perverted or wrong,") he went on calmly. ("I am saying that the path of light was not for me. Just as the path of Darkness is not for most people. I am however of the opinion that the teachings of the Jedi are flawed for the simple reason they are not masters of themselves. Perhaps it is a Sith thing; perhaps it is the mercilessness of the Dark side which forces us to strive for more and never give in. I for one could not at the time make peace with their teachings and I wanted more. I felt there was more and I wanted it all; and though such thirst for knowledge and power is considered as a flaw by the Jedi, in the eyes of the Dark side it is a virtue.")

("Reaching out for something that would normally be considered beyond human capabilities is what I am beginning to work on with you now,") he said. ("It means surpassing humanness and reaching out for more. You will find that all the boundaries you have set for yourself, which you feel should be there, will simply shift further. And each time they do, you will comprehend how irrelevant some things, which you have once considered as vital, really are.")

He got up and environed his table, his long black cloak dragging after him. Larynthe stared at him as though she was mesmerised. She just could not take her eyes off him.

("Your great friendship with your companion fell apart as soon as he felt a hint of the Dark side in you. It was human of him, the way he acted – but it was nevertheless wrong. He abandoned you when you needed him the most, because he was afraid and because he was too stubborn to see what was right in front of his nose. But this…")

He reached out for her hand – to her great shock – and turned it over. He placed his fingers gently on the branding mark.

("This goes deeper than flesh and blood. This is a bond that cannot be broken. Even though my master left this world, he still advises me and guides me from the Dark side. Such is the power of an oath to the Dark side.")

Larynthe closed her eyes and drank in the power which was emanating from his cold hand. The Dark side swirled around her and it almost seemed as though her own, though meagre and pitiful, power answered to that of the Dark Lord and the feeling this offered her was indescribable. And in that moment, she knew she did not want to leave his side. She wanted to stay there, in the Sith Temple, and learn, advance and grow in the Dark side. In that moment something finally broke within her as she found all she ever wanted and hoped for with the Dark Lord and the Dark side. Suddenly nothing mattered, but the here and now and all that intoxicating power. The swirling of the Dark side around her reminded her of waves of an endless, ancient ocean, which had the power to crush the world but at the same time to give her exactly what she needed and help her to become what she wanted to become.

On the spur of the moment, feeling overwhelmed, she leaned forward and pressed her lips on the Dark Lord's hand. And though she acted impulsively, she knew exactly why she did it. Because she wanted to express her gratitude in some way; because she wanted to reassure him that she would follow his teachings; because she wanted to show this well of power her respect; but also because she wanted to let him know that she was now here with her heart and soul. She had no more secret agendas and no more secret plans.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Tyananna could not sleep that night. Throughout the rest of the day, she caught herself gazing absently at the floor, thinking about what happened and about how strange and different she felt when he sent her back to her chambers. It almost felt as though she died and became someone else, someone she was afraid and ashamed of. She buried her head in her hands, ready to pluck out her hair in a fit of despair. She snorted when she caught herself thinking how she could not wait for her hair to grow, so that that part of her as well would be following the Sith tradition.

She felt empty and drained... and cold, so very cold. She wrapped the bed cover around her herself and sat in her bed for hours, obsessively reading the Sith Code. She caught herself thinking about some things she read in the books, wondering how to apply them and how the Dark Lord would react to that, whether he would be pleased. And whenever she caught herself thinking dreamily about the power emanating from his palms, she would shout and throw things into the adjacent wall, angry with herself and resenting him for doing this to her, for binding her with her own feelings, for bewitching her like that. She hated him; and she felt attracted to him and to what he stood for. There were moments when she honestly believed he might have done something to her, bewitched her in some way, but she could not see how this could have been done.

She hated herself for kissing his hand, though she knew why she had done it. She hated herself for looking forward to her next training session, though she knew why. And all the contradictions were driving her mad.

When Lady Tarralyanna came to ask her whether she needed any help with her Sith Code studies, Tyananna dissolved into sobs, throwing herself at the thin Sith and crying her heart out. Lady Tarralyanna held her firmly in her arms and ran her fingers through her hair. It was not exactly hard for her to fathom out what happened from those few scraps of Tyananna's thoughts; and for the first time, she understood how Tyananna felt.

("I know, Tyananna, I know,") she whispered into her ear. ("But it will get better from now on. And Tammutyen and I shall help you when we can.")

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Lady Tarralyanna insisted on taking the miserable Tyananna for a walk. She said she would show her the Sanguae trees. And the fresh air indeed did wonders for Tyananna's head and her chaotic thoughts.

Just as they approached the Temple again, Tyananna looked in the direction of the Dark Lord's tower. The black flame of Yllen burned at its top as steadily as ever. Faint light was flickering in the Dark Lord's study and Tyananna wondered what he was doing. Was he sitting at his desk, surrounded by books, scriptures, test tubes and tongs? She tried to imagine what it would feel like to sit in his study again and shook her head, following Lady Tarralyanna toward the entrance to the Temple.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

When Tyananna woke up the following morning, it took her some time before she realised who she was, where she was and what she was doing there. Her bedroom was pitch dark. For a moment she wondered why her feet were so cold – like ice – but then she remembered that she was… a Sith.

Tyananna had fallen asleep late because she could not stop thinking about what happened in the Dakr Lord's study. She finally fell asleep after drinking a glass of Malaskian liquor. So that was the reason why her head felt so heavy. Did she miss the morning training? She did not hear the gong. She fumbled around for a candle and ignited it using the Dark side, peering sleepily at the sand-clock on her night table. It had not dawned yet. She sighed with relief and fell back on her bed, closing her eyes. She must not fall asleep. And yet her body felt heavy and she felt exhausted. Bodily and mentally.

As the Dark Lord walked into the training hall, her stomach did a black flip and her heart started beating very fast. He seated himself on his usual place, and, after telling Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen what he wanted them to do that day, he turned to Tyananna. He was wearing a hood once again and Tyananna was very grateful for that. His behaviour toward her did not indicate he remembered what happened yesterday and she was grateful for that, too.

("This evening you shall start with your meditations,") he told her after he watched her practise with her wooden M'Hoor. He told her that her work was improving and Tyananna found herself flashing a goofy smile at him before she knew what she was doing.

("However, you will not be using the technique you have been taught at the Jedi Temple. It would be unsafe for you yet, to immerse yourself in the Dark side completely. Thus I shall give you a symbol, which stands for order and harmony in the Dark side. It will serve as your protection and shield against the negative aspects of the Dark side, as well as means for you to learn more about how meditation with the Dark side is done.")

He pulled out a scroll from his cloak and handed it to her. She was about to unroll it, but the Dark Lord detained her.

("Regard it as something sacred and do not look at it until the hour comes,") he said, waving a hand and getting to his feet.

Lady Tarralyanna seemed very excited when Tyananna told her about it and tapped her on the shoulder, saying that it was a good sign, that the Dark Lord thought she was ready for meditation. According to her, meditations in the Dark side were very powerful, very consuming, and were not a pastime of a Jedi who suddenly decided to close his eyes a little after lunch.

But just as Tyananna was getting ready for lunch, eagerly thinking about it and noting how she already looked a little thinner, Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna burst into her chambers. Not not before they knocked, of course. Because now they treated her quite differently.

("You put your clothes on,") Lady Tarralyanna said, looking excited. ("Master is going hold a council and he told us to pick you up, too.")

("What sort of a council?") Tyananna asked, grabbing the first black shirt she saw, disappearing in the adjacent room. Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen remained in her dining room – thoughtful, she thought.

("I expect he got more news from Gangar,") Tyananna heard Lady Tarralyanna's voice from the dining room. ("And now he wants to give us missions.")

Lord Tammutyen let out a sigh of yearning and looked up to the ceiling, rocking on the balls of his feet and thinking about all those Jedi, out there, just waiting for him to hunt them down. He certainly hoped Tarralyanna was right. She looked at him with amusement and nudged him in the ribs, warning him not to say anything about Jedi hunting in front of Tyananna. It would be unwise and tactless, she told him through the Dark side.

("What do Droddians have to do with him?") Tyananna asked, returning, now fully dressed, to the dining room. She grabbed a cloak which she had been buried under a pile of clothes and gave it a good shake. A number of things fell out, like her water bottle, bandages and healing paste, which rolled under her table. She was desperately untidy, Lady Tarralyanna noted.

("His allies,") Lady Tarralyanna said impatiently. ("Warriors of Gangar.")

("Allies?") Tyananna echoed.

The old story of a general starting a war appeared in the foreground of her mind as she threw the cloak over her shoulders and hurried after the two Sith, running after them while trying to do something about her hair.

The Dark Lord was waiting for them, sitting bent over a large map of Horukaan, and waved impatiently at them.

("There has been a new development of matter,") he said, sitting down and interlacing his fingers on the table, something he did whenever he was thoughtful.

Tyananna tried not to look at him; and yet caught herself glancing over his long, white fingers.

("I received word from Quentaa,") he went on, staring thoughtfully at the Sith glyphs. ("The King calls for help.")

("Mutiny, my Master?") Lord Tammutyen asked with hunger in his voice.

The Dark Lord nodded and Tammutyen grinned. Tyananna was straining her mind to understand the shortened, flowing version of the Sith she was studying and which they were now using. They no longer tried to speak clearly and carefully in her presence, as they did in the beginning.

("More like an attempt to overthrow our good King,") the Dark Lord said thoughtfully. ("Well, that will not do. I will not allow that. He is a good ally, a very obedient ally. He must remain where he is.")

His eyes flashed as he looked up and Tyananna saw clearly the hint of rage in their dark depths.

("I thought I might send the three of you there, but I have changed my mind,") he said firmly, putting the map away. ("Tyananna needs to train and learn and she can do this best if she remains here, with me. The two of you, however, are going, and you will leave already this evening. I want you to find those who have dared to rise against the King and kill them. All of them. Spare no one and have no mercy. All of them must die and be out of the way and the hardest part is going to be to track them down. But I put my trust in your resourcefulness.")

("We shall not disappoint you, Master,") Lady Tarralyanna said quickly, before Lord Tammutyen could say something bloodthirsty, as his eyes were now agleam with the desire to kill. She was certain that whatever he had to say, that it would not exactly be reasonable or appropriate. Tammutyen could be such a child, she thought, annoyed.

("I do not want you to use the Force in your work, however,") the Dark Lord went on, nodding and looking at Lady Tarralyanna. ("Or your weapons, they would draw too much attention. Use ordinary swords, knives, whatever you can think of.")

("Axes?") Lord Tammutyen whispered before Tarralyanna could stop him, staring avidly at the Dark Lord. Lady Tarralyanna frowned, but the Dark Lord let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head.

("Yes, I daresay Tammutyen will be enjoying himself,") he said, sounding amused, to Lady Tarralyanna's relief. ("And I give you the permission to do anything you like, my apprentice.")

Lord Tammutyen's lip trembled and a quiet, excited whimper escaped him. He opened his mouth to say something; however, the Dark Lord lifted a hand and Tammutyen nodded, closing it.

("Do not show your faces, do not call each other by your names,") the Dark Lord went on seriously.

("We understand, Master,") Lady Tarralyanna said eagerly.

("Good,") the Dark Lord said, getting to his feet, at what the three Sith got to their feet as well. ("Go and start packing. I want to speak to Tyananna.")

The two Sith burst out of the council room and left confused and anxious Tyananna standing with her head bowed in front of the Sith Lord, who environed the round, black table and fixed his glance on her.

("This new development of matter brings me back to my original concern,") he said thoughtfully. ("I am running out of time.")

He walked toward the curtains with his hands on his back, parting them so that he could peer through the window and then drawing them back. Tyananna stared at him, devouring everything about him, every detail, every flinch of eyelash, everything. She did not really care why he wanted to speak to her because it gave her the chance to be alone with him. She was alone with the Dark Lord, who was giving her his undivided attention and she did not have to share him with anyone. She was distantly aware how ridiculous and childish this sounded, but she did not care.

("Principally this is why I have decided to keep you here,") he went on. He was now speaking slowly and clearly, so that she could understand him, the hissing and gurgling words rolling over his tongue as though it was made to speak Sith. ("So that I could train you, teach you. I shall perhaps demand more of you than you can give me at the present moment. But it is necessary.")

("We need to work very hard, my apprentice,") he said quietly. ("There is no time for you to ask questions or to hesitate. You must do as I say and trust me.")

("I shall do my best, Master,") Tyananna said breathlessly.

("You may find that it would not be enough,") he went on, nodding seriously at her and glancing over her as thought trying to decide whether she was up to it. ("But first things first. Put on your sad'khai and come to the entrance hall in fifteen minutes. I shall be waiting for you there.")

As Tyananna headed back to her chambers to change, she could hear distant hammering coming from the direction of the smithy. She imagined that Lord Tammutyen was making new swords or perhaps something even worse, to be ready for this wonderful mission the Dark Lord gave to him.

The Dark Lord appeared in the entrance hall holding a large hourglass in his hands. She stared at it, wondering what he was going to use it for.

("Do you see that little knoll with three rocks at the top, with the black one in the middle?") he asked. Tyananna craned her neck, nodding.

("You will be doing laps around the Temple,") the Dark Lord went on. ("The four rocks mark the route you will be taking. Along the path you will see reminders that you are on the right track in the shape of three rocks plus a black one in the middle somewhere along the way.")

Tyananna froze. Running! Of course, when she saw the two run around the Temple, they were training and not running away from anyone, as she initially thought. Tyananna swallowed. She was no good at running and she did not really try to run on too many occasions to test her endurance. She never did it at the Jedi Temple and she already felt sick as she tried to imagine how long this 'route' was.

("You will not use the Dark side to help you,") the Dark Lord said with an air of finality. ("Start at a pace you are comfortable with. It is however of the utmost importance that you do not stop. If you feel tired, slow down, but do not stop.")

("How long is this… route, Master?") she asked anxiously.

("Four thousand paces exactly,") the Dark Lord said, hissing impatiently as her jaw dropped. ("Do as I told you and do not be a coward.")

She tugged at her shirt nervously and turned to face the knoll. He upturned the hourglass and shouted at her. And before she knew what she was doing, she was running toward the knoll.

It was so easy to say that she would going to do her best to do exactly as he told her, but on a number of occasions she felt it was impossible to do what he was asking her to do. As she passed by her own window, she felt her stomach in her throat and tried swallowing as she ran on. The last thousand paces she trotted, trying to see where she was going because she felt seriously dizzy and trying to breathe, which was proving very difficult, if not impossible. When she finally reached her starting point and stopped beside the Dark Lord who held up his hourglass, she doubled over and threw up in the bushes.

("It is a start,") the Dark Lord said, the corners of his cruel mouth curling into a smile of satisfaction. ("Stretch as you have been shown by my apprentices. You may call Peetah to assist you with your regeneration and in the evening, I expect you to train hard prior to your meditation. I shall see you in the morning.")

He left while she was still emptying her stomach. Her head was spinning, her mind was empty and her legs were already numb.

Peetah proved to be very helpful indeed. It seemed that the old Malaskian had experience when it came to such cases of exhaustion and she did not seem surprised. Soon she was rubbing some sort of a paste all over Tyananna's legs which made her sneeze and advised her strongly to drink the juice she brought her.

Coming back from the training hall that evening, Tyananna thought how she could just fall asleep in the corridor. Why bother walking to her chambers? She was not even certain she was going in the right direction. She yawned and thought about coffee – and then laughed, remembering that Lady Tarralyanna never came to the library to work without a steaming pot of coffee.

She passed through the entrance hall, pitying herself, at what she heard voices. But of course. Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen were leaving this evening. Tyananna headed toward the entrance to the Temple, following the sound of their voices. However, just as she was thinking about what to ask them, she heard her name being mentioned and she shrank back into the shadows.

("… and I wonder how she is going to cope with that,") Lord Tammutyen said. Tyananna heard a clank of metal – he was probably packing his sword and axe collection.

("Well, he would not have accepted her as his apprentice if he did not feel she could do it,") said the quiet voice of Lady Tarralyanna. ("But, I quite like having her around. I thought I would be fantasising about killing her in her sleep, but I do not.")

Lord Tammutyen laughed and Tyananna heard him fumbling with his stirrups.

("She is a good test for my self-control,") he said. ("While she was travelling with us form Gnath, she was driving me mad. Smelling so sweet… all that blood…")

Tyananna swallowed, listening to this. She now got the hang of their quick, flowing jargon Sith and could understand them rather well as they whispered to each other, with the Malaskians helping them.

("She always makes me laugh,") Lady Tarralyanna said brightly, calming her horse down by patting it on the neck. The stallion closed its eyes and allowed the Sith to pet it. ("And she helps me see flaws in my logic by being illogical herself. She can be a great help, you know.")

("But her emotionality!") Lord Tammutyen cried.

("She will come around,") Lady Tarralyanna said with certainty in her voice. ("The Dark side accepted her and we should help her. I already learned a lot by helping her – she makes me see myself with another pair of eyes. I do not know what the Dark side has in stall for her, but I know for certain that Master believes in her. We should as well.")

Tyananna could not bear it any longer. She had no idea whether they noticed her or not, but she stepped out of the shadows and approached them, just as Lady Tarralyanna was mounting her horse.

"Tyananna!" she cried, smiling. Tyananna smiled back.

Fresh air filled Tyananna's nostrils as she came out of the Temple wearing her sad'khai only and approached Lady Tarralyanna's horse, shivering in the cold. But for Gotan, this was a warm night indeed.

("Train hard,") Lady Tarralyanna said, nodding seriously at her. ("May the Darkness be with you.")

She reached out with her hand to Tyananna. Tyananna felt tears coming to her eyes as she gripped the gloved hand of the Sith. The two women grinned at each other, with Tyananna sniffing.

("May the Darkness be with you too,") she answered quietly.

Lady Tarralyanna let go of her with a nod, spurring her horse and heading for the gate. Lord Tammutyen rode toward the shivering Tyananna and stretched out his hand to her as well. He repeated the same sentence and shook her hand well.

("We will talk to you soon,") he added over his shoulder before he spurred his horse toward the gate, his cloak billowing after him.

Tyananna watched them go, feeling as though her best friends just left her. She felt empty and hollow on the inside. The cold and silent walls of the Sith Temple towered over her, reminding her that she still had work to do before she could go to bed. Suddenly she felt very lonely, alone in the huge Sith temple with the Dark Lord, who was once again locked in his Tower. With great difficulty she sat down on a pillow and prepared herself for her first meditation, placing the scroll the Dark Lord gave her on the floor before her with reverence.


	32. Chapter 31 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

When I rewrote the last chapter I noticed all the brackets indicating Sith was spoken were a little confusing. I decided not to use them, because one can easily figure out from the context which language is spoken.

Cassie

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CAP. XXXI – Pain

In darkness which fell on the land of Gotan, two riders broke out of a group of late wanderers through the streets of the capital town, who scattered as two black horses emerged from the fog. The guards on duty got to their feet, peering through the darkness and lifting up their spears; who could be leaving the town at that hour? The riders had their hoods on and their faces were concealed; but the black stallions they were riding could not belong to an ordinary man, they concluded as they watched them trot toward them, their nostrils flaring, their eyes flashing at them, their chest gleaming with royal insignia.

"Open the gate," said the tall, broad-shouldered figure at the front, pulling down his hood, "I am the Prince of Gotan, and my sister and I need to pass."

The Prince's bejewelled circlet glittered on his head, his eyes impatiently flashing at them and the guards hastened to obey him. As soon as the gate was opened, he spurred his horse violently through it, leaving clouds of dirt hovering in the air behind him, closely followed by a lean figure of someone could only be the Princess, his sister. She rode like a man, as always, wearing a quiver on her back, the clanks coming from her saddlebags telling them she was carrying weapons. The two galloped through the gate and disappeared in the distance, the sound of pounding hooves slowly fading away.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen rode hard for twelve hours without respite. When they finally slowed down, the first rays of Cyrron were breaking through the silence and peace of the soothing night. They resolved to sleep through Cyrron hours, as they were now travelling alone. Purple haze appeared in the east as they settled down beneath a few trees, having made an awning under which they would sleep. They huddled close to each other, distant splashing of the lake reptiles reaching their ears, their senses sharp and open to the Dark side. The treetops were swishing lightly to and fro and the breeze carried fragrances characteristic of the Fiery Season.

Lady Tarralyanna thought over and over again about the look on Tyananna's face as she reached out for her hand. She got so emotional that Tarralyanna was left wondering how could her emotions be so strong and so wild. They are like the Dark side, she thought with an inward smile, as she listened to her brother's deep breathing, punctured with an occasional excited grunt, telling her that he was dreaming about hunting. She gave the chain of her Saragon a caress and sighed. Tyananna advanced so much since the Ceremony that she was unrecognisable, and in this moment, she knew, was heading to the training hall and Tarralyanna knew which surprise awaited her – her Master wanted her to already start working with her real M'Hoor. She smiled as she tried to imagine the horrified look on her face.

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"Turn, turn, turn," was what the Dark Lord was saying miles and miles away, watching the poor sweaty Tyananna clumsily spinning her real M'Hoor in her one hand. Her fingers were sweaty and rigid due to too much practice (as she found Lord Tammutyen's little exercise very useful and was doing it ever since) and the sword kept falling out of her hand.

"Concentrate!" the Sith Lord barked, at what she winced, her heart beating fast. She quickly picked up her sword and began spinning it in her hand once again. It spun around two, three times, four times…

"Close your eyes," said the Dark Lord. Uh-oh, she thought, but she obeyed. She could feel the smooth surface of the skin wrapped around the middle of her sword underneath her fingers as she spun it in the same rhythm, counting turns, her lips moving soundlessly.

"Rest," the Dark Lord said at last.

She succeeded in turning the sword in her one hand for thirty times with her eyes closed. She was surprised herself – she never thought she could do it. But the Sith Lord's mere presence was enough to force her to try to do things she could not and would not normally be able to do and succeed at them.

"Now," he said, getting to his feet, his black cloak sliding off the chair soundlessly on which he had been sitting until then and watching Tyananna practise. "I shall teach you the first b'daar. The b'daars were a theory of my Master's and I have developed it, put it into practice. Each is applicable in a different situation, but you will find that sometimes a warrior needs to use a few at the same time. Essentially, a b'daar is a complicated set of movements designed to simulate most of the patterned and expected attacks of one or more opponents. Different races fight differently and that has been taken into consideration as well. But you will find that my apprentices have used b'daars when they duelled you and your companion; and they have certainly been effective, most of the time. Thus we have learned that they are effective against the Jedi as well."

Tyananna was silent, staring at her feet and listening attentively. How can one simulate attacks and react, not instinctively, but according to some learned series of movements? Can one actually fight like that?

"Through careful study of fighting skills of various famous warriors," the Dark Lord answered her thoughts.

He took the sword from her hands and passed her by without looking at her. She stared at him as he positioned himself in the centre of the hall, the tall figure in a black sad'khai, his long hair braided and falling down his back. Slowly, the Dark Lord began to move, his movements graceful, precise and controlled. It is like a dance, she concluded for the thousandth time, watching him breathlessly. He moved without a pause, without any apparent strain, appearing as though he was doing nothing at all.

"Repeat," he said, suddenly coming to a halt and handing over the sword to her. She took it reluctantly, blinking up at him. She only remembered the first few movements – she was too preoccupied with watching him and marvelling at him.

"I… am not certain I got everything right, Master," she said.

But, to her surprise, the Dark Lord did not shout at her, but repeated the movements slowly again, without the sword. Tyananna stared at him, memorising every movement, every flinch of finger, drinking everything in like a sponge. She knew very well that testing his patience would not exactly be a very wise thing to do, and thus, she gave her best to memorise everything.

"But how do I hold my sword when I jump?" she asked as she came to that part, remembering his synchronous and swift turn in the air and soft landing on the polished marble. It looked as though it was not hard at all, though she felt it must be.

"You press it against your chest with your both hands," he said, pointing, "And your constitution is going to give you trouble now, do you see that? But we shall take care of it."

It would certainly make things easier if she was as light as Lady Tarralyanna, it occurred to her.

"You are not trying hard enough," the Dark Lord said quietly, watching her struggle to her feet after she managed to turn in the air and then, taken by surprise with her success, landed badly and rolled over. "Again."

She did it again and again, until her mind was swimming and the picture of the Dark Lord sitting before got blurred.

"It seems that I… just… cannot… do it," she groaned angrily, getting to her feet for the thousandth time.

It was a very wrong thing to say, she realised that at once. The Dark Lord pulled out a long, thin whip from his robes so fast she never saw it coming. Before Tyananna knew what was happening, he made a swift movement with the whip in his hand and she fell to the floor, screaming. It felt as though the skin on her back was ripped open.

"If I ever again hear you say that you could not do something," he said in a low voice which was trembling with rage, "I shall whip you until you pass out. Do you understand? I know what you can and what you cannot do and thinking about failure is the first step toward failure."

Trembling and gasping, blinking the tears of pain away, Tyananna raised herself to her feet. She did not think she was up to doing anything while in such pain, but the sight of the Dark Lord still standing with the whip in his hand and just waiting for her to cross the line again, dissuaded her from saying anything that might be considered as rebellious. There was only one thing she could do.

"I understand, my Master," she answered quietly.

"Good," he said, putting the whip away, to her huge relief. "Now, you are a Sith. Why do you not use the Dark side to help you? It is your strength, your ally, your tool. So _use_ it!"

Of course, until now she thought that the use of the Force was not allowed. But far from being resentful and angry, she was now grateful for this permission. Leaping with the use of the Dark side was so very different than doing it with the help of the light side, she concluded. The trick was to forget about jumping, while reaching out to the Dark side; it made her momentarily unaware of what she was doing, but she concluded that the Dark side answered much more quickly than the light side did. It tossed her high in the air, where she turned without realising it, embracing her M'Hoor, and lowered her on the floor not so very gently. She lost her balance but the following moment she sprang to her feet, thinking about the whip which was still tucked in the Dark Lord's belt.

"That happened because you are afraid of jumping," said the Dark Lord, pointing at her. "Again."

Tyananna got back into position and jumped again, neither having enough time to compose herself, nor to think about what she was about to do. The Dark side eagerly answered her call again and tossed her even higher.

"You need to control what you are doing," said the Dark Lord as she straightened up, panting. "The Dark side is a powerful tool indeed; but it does not know how high you want to jump, nor what do you want to do. You need to direct it, to tell it. You must become one with your intention, to see it happen before you start doing it. You must think of nothing else – only then will the Dark side understand what you want to do and will help you. Again!"

oooooooooooooooooooo

Her afternoon running session ended up in him whipping her again, because she stopped to rest, to sit down, thinking that she would collapse if she did not stop. Tyananna sat on the cold ground, unable to stand and told him she was really sorry and that she would not do it again, hoping it was enough. He looked down on her pitilessly and straightened up, lowering his whip.

"A Sith does not beg for mercy," he said quietly, watching her. "A Sith knows how to accept punishment without a tear in his eye, without feeling sorry for himself. A Sith is too proud to give in to pain and admit it is getting to him. Now, tell me, do you know why I have punished you?"

"Because I sat down to rest, Master," she said, shaking.

"No," he said firmly. "I have done it because you have not done what I have told you to do. You were ordered to run from the beginning to the end of the route, at whichever pace you felt comfortable with – and you have not done that. I would have equally punished you if you started walking. My orders were quite clear – and you have not done what I wanted you to do. _That_ is why I have punished you."

To her surprise, he invited her to have lunch with him. But first Tyananna called Peetah to take care of her back, which was now bleeding. The Malaskian knew what to do and she brought some oil, which she began smearing all over her back.

"My poor miss Tyananna," she moaned. "But you will not do it again now, I hope. Ah, there, you see, how much thinner you look? You are growing muscles and it is going to help you in your training."

Frowning to herself and walking gingerly, wincing with every step she took (as she still did not get the hang of healing herself with the Dark side and had no Lady Tarralyanna to assist her), Tyananna arrived at the grand dining hall and waited for the Dark Lord to come. He approached her in a leisurely pace and sat down, placing his palms on the table. She did the same.

They ate in silence. At that moment, Tyananna hated him. She hated every hair on his head, every thread of his black robes. She knew he could easily hear her thoughts, but she did not care.

"Indeed you look more appropriate, Tyananna," he said softly, glancing over her and then again picking up his fork. "I am pleased with that."

Tyananna was sulkily cutting her vegetables into smaller and smaller pieces, purposefully staring at her plate.

"I expect that Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen will reach Quentaa in two weeks," he said.

She looked up, startled. Two weeks! Impossible, she thought. It is such a long way; and they would not be able to arrive there in two weeks even if they changed their horses.

"They sleep only a few hours," said the Dark Lord. "And they have the Dark side as an ally, you forget. You will find, too, that this ally is the most powerful ally one could want. They know that speed is of greatest importance and thus they are riding very hard."

"What is it that you have ordered them to do in the Kingdom of Quentaa, Master?" Tyananna asked curiously.

This was her chance to ask him about it. But I still hate him, despite of the fact that I called him 'master' and spoke to him, she thought to herself as she watched him wipe off his mouth, which then stretched into a very unpleasant sneer.

"I know you hate me, and that is just as well," he said quietly, chuckling to himself. "I have ordered them to kill any enemies of the King they find. They want to dethrone him – and I cannot allow that."

"But—why?" Tyananna asked.

She knew what he ordered them to do, though she was not certain she got everything right. But she did not have a clue as to why he cared whether some king got dethroned. He, the Sith Lord? Why would he care? Was this king his ally in something?

"You presume well," the Dark Lord said, putting down his goblet. "The King of Quentaa and the Chief of Gangar are my allies. They obey my orders. And it would be most unfortunate for me to have to search for new allies, do you not think so? Besides, after Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen succeed at their mission, the King shall be grateful to me for helping him."

"Why do you need allies, Master? Allies in what?" Tyananna asked very quietly, fearing the answer, if she ever got one.

He just might whip her again for asking too many questions, but she thought it was worth it. Every muscle on the strain, she watched his hand pick his pipe and ignite it. She breathed with relief. If he was going to smoke, then was not planning on whipping her.

"I am carrying out the will of the Dark side," he said in a solemn, melodious voice. Tyananna suddenly felt the desire to listen to him speak all evening long and she hated herself for it. "Its will is to rule Horukaan. I am its hands and voice on Horukaan and it is my task to make this happen. Thus I need allies, who would stand by me. I have disclosed my secret to them and they have sworn their allegiance to me, when it comes to war."

"War?" Tyananna echoed, now realising that her worst fears were confirmed. Something heavy dropped into her stomach, which tied in a knot, despite of the fact that dessert was still waiting for her.

"Yes, war," the Dark Lord answered a little impatiently. "And when the time comes, you will have to be ready for it. That is why I am pushing you so hard."

The meaning of it reached her empty brain only now, as he told her what her role in this war would be. She would fight alongside with the Sith, for the Dark side, wage war against the Jedi Order and the rest of the Horukaan! She would have to kill Jedi!

"You have given your Oath before the Dark side and before me, my apprentice," the Dark Lord said with a hint of laughter in his voice. "You made your choice and you cannot turn back, even if you wanted to."

"What use will I be to you?" she asked suddenly, her voice trembling due to profound shock, not looking at him. "Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen have been with you for over two decades; whereas you began teaching me only now. Even if I had three more years, I would still not be as able to fight as they are, Master."

"I sense fear in you," the Dark Lord said slowly, leaning a little forward. "Do you fear death, Tyananna? Battle? Or do you fear meeting your old colleagues, Jedi, now standing by my side? Could it be that you would feel ashamed if this happened?"

He dug through her confused thoughts easily and Tyananna bit her lip, distraught, cold sweat trickling down her back under her robes, the sheer sight of her dessert making her nauseous.

"But whatever it turns out to be," he said softly, with a caress in his voice, with her both loving and hating to hear it, "you belong to me now. There is no turning back, once one starts down the Dark path."

oooooooooooooooooo

Tyananna could not sleep, again. Her back ached so much she had to sleep on her belly and she still twitched and winced every now and then as her skin was quickly healing with the help of Peetah's wondrous oil. Of course, she did not ask the Dark Lord to heal her back, because she was certain he would punish her for that, too. Because it would mean making things easier for her. He wanted her to suffer, to remember her mistakes, so that she would not repeat them, like any other teacher. But, compared to her Jedi master's techniques, namely lecturing her and yelling at her, his reminders were far more lasting and far more unpleasant, she concluded.

She tried to imagine herself fighting a Jedi, wearing a sad'khai and speaking in Sith to Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen. She shook her head and buried it in the pillows. She regarded Lady Tarralyanna as a voice of reason, as an annoying logic fanatic, as someone who wanted to have an explanation for everything, to know everything; and yet she never heard her boast around with her knowledge and skill. In fact, she was very modest. When Tyananna asked her how she managed to get that flexible, fearing that the Dark Lord could soon force her to start doing splits and all the fantastic things Lady Tarralyanna could do, she smiled mysteriously and said: 'Plenty of practice, that is all.' But despite of everything, despite of the fact she once engaged in a deadly duel with her, that she was about to kill her, Tyananna began regarding her a friend. A weird, unemotional, very distant friend, but one who she found, surprisingly, by her side when she needed her the most. She was not the sort of person to start inquiring about Tyananna's family, about unimportant things, which would normally be discussed between friends. No; she wanted to know what she had learned at the Jedi Temple, how she felt doing this or that, which were all questions asked for one purpose only – for her to learn more about the way Tyananna functioned (and thus how the Jedi in general functioned, how they thought and what was driving them) and more about the world. This was how she was getting to know her and she never asked what was her favourite food, favourite music or what was her mother's name. To her, it did not matter. Getting to know her lifestyle, Tyananna felt respect and pity for her. Her respect soon evolved into admiration. Lady Tarralyanna seemed to be quite unfamiliar with the meaning of the word 'laziness'.

Lord Tammutyen she hated in the beginning – she hated him for killing her best friend. What he said when he faced Waak still haunted her – 'Now that I know your name, I can kill you.' But the quiet, formidable Sith knight evoke pity in her when she heard the story of his resurrection and seeing his scars, reminders of what he had been through, made it all somehow more real. He was living this horrible life, not having had a chance to decide for himself, for his Master decided for him, turning him into something beast-alike – drinking blood to survive and forcing himself to eat meat. He learned to control himself, Lady Tarralyanna told her proudly; and he considered giving in to his urges as a grave insult to his abilities. Tyananna felt sorry for him, but she also admired him for what he was doing, how he was living his life, never rebelling or complaining, never even thinking about vengeance, but following the man who sentenced him to this pitiful existence, however he had done it.

She tried to imagine herself again standing beside them and waving with her M'Hoor; suddenly that mental image of her sprouted a forked tail and horns, and she quickly shook it off. 'Fear is poison,' she remembered Lord Tammutyen telling her. It certainly seemed that way, with the Dark side. If she hesitated and was unsure what to do, if she felt the slightest shred of fear, the Dark side would smell it and it would not obey her. She used to be a promising Jedi apprentice, on her way of becoming a master, and this was what happened when she and Waak decided to explore the rumours about the Sith. She became one of them and he got killed.

Feeling like a rat in a cage, she drew the black curtains over the windows and threw herself on her bed. Her dreams were confused. She dreamt that the Dark Lord was punishing her again and her back, which was now quickly healing, itched.

As the Dark Lord brandished his whip in her dream, she screamed and awoke with a start, staring into the dull blackness of her sleeping room. She slumped back on her pillows, snorting with annoyance. It was just a dream, a stupid dream, she thought, rubbing her eyes. At that moment she heard a whisper and she lifted her head. He could not be in her chambers, could he?

As she lit her candle, she felt Lady Tarralyanna's voice in her mind. And then she felt Lady Tarralyanna reach out to her through the Dark side. She was sitting under an awning with Lord Tammutyen. There was a small cauldron set over an extinguished fire and two cups, already washed. She could smell horses and hear a distant rustle of grass, as one of the stallions moved. When Tyananna thought about her dream and about her itching back, she felt Lady Tarralyanna reach out for her and whisper words of support. As Lady Tarralyanna got up and started packing, the connection faded and Tyananna was left alone, staring blankly at the ceiling.

oooooooooooooooooo

Three days later, Tyananna of the Sith was sitting with the Dark Lord in a large, warm chamber illuminated by a few candles and drank coffee. Thick black rugs were everywhere and armchairs and sofas looked as though they were made for royalty. Tyananna wondered for the thousandth time how come he was in possession of such treasuries and how come he lived in the Sith Temple which could rightfully be called a palace. Now she got used to the strange, strong coffee the Sith liked and she began to appreciate it.

"Tell me, my apprentice," the Dark Lord said, reaching out for his pipe. "Do you play any musical instruments?"

Tyananna was taken aback with this question; they have been discussing his plans for Horukaan and she came to the conclusion that she was actually allowed to ask a lot of questions and that the Dark Lord would answer them. She learned a lot – and what she learned, unsurprisingly, frightened her. Until now, she got to know his two faces – two faces of Darkness. He was demanding, but at the same time he was patient with her; he respected hard work and abhorred laziness; and when one was obedient, hard-working and honest in one's pursuit of power and growth in the Dark side, the Dark Lord approved of it and helped. But his other face... It was merciless, emotionless and the sheer size of its destructive power horrified her. Those were the two faces of Darkness Tyananna saw from up close.

"I do, Master," she said, looking down on her cup. "I used to play a lute. A friend taught me to play it at the Temple."

"A lute?" the Dark Lord echoed. She thought he would start laughing – indeed, the Sith did not seem to appreciate music. Only silence. Deadly silence. "Wonderful. I shall get one for you and then you can play it for me."

"It has been ages, Master," she said, suddenly nervous and surprised. "I am not sure I could do it."

"It will come back to you, once you take the instrument into your hands," he said, waving a hand and taking a pull at his pipe, the smoke veiling his head like a crown. "Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen never had the opportunity to learn how to play an instrument, because they were kept too busy by me. But I daresay the both of them can sing rather well, though they are not aware of it."

"I, however, have constructed an instrument of my own," the Dark Lord went on. "Behave and train hard and I might play it for you. I am certain you would enjoy its sound."

And there he goes again, Tyananna thought. He would whip her and call her all sorts of names, making her hate him, leave her alone in her chambers to wrestle with her loneliness and despair, and then invite her for coffee in this magnificent lounge and say something like this. He would play his instrument for her, whom he tormented and mercilessly forced to train, to study, to work, all through the day, starving her and imposing his strict laws upon her. Waking up at the sound of the gong, going to sleep when the gong sounded, eating at the exact same time, training at the exact same time, always wearing the same clothes while training… Suddenly she felt overwhelmed with happiness at the prospect of hearing him play his instrument and smiled.

"I would love to hear it," she heard herself say, but the next moment hated herself for it.

"On the last day of the week," he said. "But only if you behave."

"May I ask you something, Master?" she asked. Her tongue was now handling Sith just fine and it did not feel sore any more. She had plenty of practise because the Dark Lord absolutely refused to speak Albinian. "I did not know enough Sith at the time to think of a phrase like the one I engraved on my sword. I searched for such a phrase in all of the books I have been using at the time, but I have not found it. How come… I have seen it in my meditation?"

"The place where Lord Tammutyen took you is your own personal Force Temple. You will notice I have said 'Force' and have not used any designations, because it is exactly so; it encompasses both sides, which can then freely mingle within it. Thus, you might have seen the aspects of both sides in your Temple."

She thought about the mullioned windows and all the light filling the Temple and this made perfect sense to her. She used to think about it in black versus white, meaning either a temple is a Dark side temple, or a light side temple. But this made sense, as she had been standing in between at the time. Where was she standing now?

"And the words which came so easily to you?" he went on, thoughtfully smoking and watching her. "The Force spoke to you in the language recognised by the Force users like you. The Dark side spoke to you in Sith."

"But I have never seen anything like that in my meditations before, at the Jedi Temple," she protested. "I have never had visions about words being inscribed on sword blades."

"That is because it is not a Jedi custom to inscribe phrases they identify themselves with on their swords," answered the Dark Lord simply.

"Identify themselves with?" she echoed.

"Yes," he said calmly, "The Dark side knows, Tyananna, even if you do not; even if I do not. Remember that. It knows you. And if it showed you that particular phrase, then you must accept it, or else you are mocking the power of the Dark side and are declining to serve it in the way it demands of you."

"I just cannot see it as true," she said, aware that she was walking on very thin ice, looking down on her hands. But, oddly, she found that the Dark Lord was very reasonable when it came to explaining to her what she needed to know and understand.

That day she ran from the beginning of the route to its very end, so scared of his punishment that the fear kept her going and then fainted before his feet. It had been just too much for her, combined with everything she already did that morning. But when she opened her eyes, she saw him leaning over her. He carried her to the Temple in his arms and laid her on a sofa. He gave her a sour drink to drink which made her feel better at once and sent for Peetah to escort her back to her chambers and attend to her. Once she was alone in her chambers, she realised why he acted that way. Because she did what he told her to. She could also ask him to repeat what he said many times and he would do it; she could ask him to show her a certain movement again and he would do it without a word, without a cross glance. But he did not tolerate disobedience, disrespect, insults or laziness and his punishments were severe.

"You will, Tyananna, one day, you will," he laughed. "But let me ask you a question in return. If you had the means of travelling through time and could speak to yourself as you were a year ago, what would you have thought of yourself? You did not know that a Dark Lord existed and you were loyal to the Jedi Order. What would you have thought of yourself if you could see yourself now, sitting here in a room with me, the Dark Lord and your Master, studying the Dark side?"

She could see his point and she frowned, looking down on her hands.

"I would have thought I have gone mad," she muttered to herself. The Dark Lord chuckled and put down his coffee cup.

She thought back about her initial plan, how she planned to contact the Jedi Order, the masters and the Council. All of that was out of the question as the only side of the Force she could use was the Dark side. Even if they could detect it, hear her call, they would ignore it. They would not believe that it was worth listening and would probably go and search for this mysterious Sith to kill him, thinking that it was a trap of some sort. She could solve the problem in only one way – if she escaped, rode back to the Jedi Temple and told them everything. She could have done it easily a million of times. Why has she not done it?

"Do not think I have not heard your thoughts," she suddenly heard the Dark Lord's voice quite close to her and she jumped in her seat. He was looking down at her with a cruel little smile hovering on his thin lips. "You could escape. No one is keeping you in bonds. I could just turn my back to you and you could go."

She stared at him, paralysed with horror.

"You could ride to your precious little Jedi Temple," he went on. "But you would come back. Do you know why? Because you cannot stay away from me and from the Dark side. I would not whip you, strangle you or stick a dozen of daggers in you, no. My punishment would be rejection. You would never again be taught in the Dark side, for there are no other teachers but me, and if I refuse, that would be your final sentence. You would remain hovering between two sides of the Force, a lost soul and a desperate seeker for purpose. Here, with me, you have a purpose, you have a name, and you have this one chance to make your life worth living, to make your name known and spoken with fear by everyone alive."

He reached out for her and she closed her eyes. Whatever he wanted to do, he could do it. Not that she succumbed to him, to her fear of him; but she succumbed to her fate, for she knew that there was nothing she could do about it. Larynthe might protest; but Tyananna knew that there was no point in countering the Dark Lord, at least not for someone in her position. She could fight him, insult him, turn against him, and he would punish her, he would make her suffer; but he would also cease caring for her, cease looking at her, cease supporting her, and this, she felt, would be the end of her world, the end of the worst kind, compared to which death would be great mercy.

She felt his cold palm on her cheek and she trembled as he caressed it. She drank in his power and wished he would never stop.

"You could run away from me," he almost whispered. "But you could never run away from your fate, from your Dark path. Your place is here, with me, with your sister and brother; and your place in war shall be by my side, fighting for the Dark side and killing in its name."

The power the Dark Lord was radiating was intoxicating and she felt she could lose herself in it. She realised that she felt so strongly attracted to this power, that she felt almost ecstatic when she sensed it. And this strange creature, this Dark Lord of the Sith, who once whipped her and now lavished her with his attention, was the living representative of this breath-taking power and she wanted it all. She nodded, staring at his feet. Yes; she belonged here, with him. She would not leave him for anything in the world.

"Perhaps the non-human, as unemotional and horrible as one might deem them, are the only ones who keep to their promises," he whispered, glancing over her with satisfaction, who was now lost in the moment, wishing it could last on and on. "I am strict with my apprentices, because I expect a lot from them and I do not tolerate failure. But, if I did not care a great deal of what is to become of all of you, do you think I would bother inventing invigorating solutions or writing training plans for all of you? Do you think…" He leaned forward so that she could feel his breath on her cheek, who was trembling and not daring to look up, his melodious voice playing the secret strings of her heart. "I would have wasted my time on you, if I have not decided on taking you all the way to the Ceremony of the Coming and beyond? The Dark side approved of you and brought you to me, among so many – and my duty is quite clear to me."

"I am sorry, my Master," she cried all of a sudden, tears coming to her eyes. He moved away, leaving her empty and cold. "But I cannot help myself! I cannot help myself not to think about my old life and about the Jedi Council!"

"It is a start," he said softly, sitting down again. "You are aware of the discrepancy between what your reason tells you and what those silly little voices tell you. It is a start. But a good start, Tyananna."

"I did not say it would be easy," he said, picking up his pipe again. "But nothing that is worth acquiring is ever easy, my apprentice. Remember that."

ooooooooooooooooo

That evening, Peetah was washing Tyananna's hair, who was sitting in a bathtub full of steaming water and enjoying the warmth. Now she felt quite comfortable with such heat.

"Ah, you see, miss Tyananna," Peetah exclaimed with delight. "It has grown longer! My husband's serum is working very well indeed."

"Now I can make you a nice plait," she went on, still marvelling at it.

"It is all uneven, though," Tyananna said. "Longer at the back and shorter at the front. You could trim it a little."

Peetah looked crestfallen at this, but nodded without a word. It would make it shorter again, she thought, disappointed. But her wishes were her wishes.

"And I so wish I had Waak's hair colour," Tyananna went on with a sigh. "I hate my mouse brown. It is so gloomy."

"We could change it, if you like," Peetah said, still busy with her hair.

"Oh?" Tyananna asked. "How?"

"The Malaskians have a nice trick for hair dying," Peetah said.

"Yes, I know, you use the mud of one of your rivers, but it washes off so quickly," Tyananna said, but nevertheless she was thinking about it.

"Oh, I am sure the Lord knows how to fix that," Peetah said in a quiet voice, as always when talking about the Dark Lord. "If you like, I can ask him about it."

Of course, Peetah would not dare speak to him if it was not absolutely necessary, but if Tyananna wanted something and needed his help, then she would have to.

"All right," Tyananna said. "Yes, I would like that. Let us just hope he finds a solution."

"I am sure he will," Peetah said happily. "He is very pleased with you. You see?"

Tyananna got out of the bathtub and started drying herself with a towel, looking at Peetah who got very excited.

"You are growing muscles," she said, glancing over the naked Tyananna. "You train very hard. And he appreciates that, child. Effort. My Lady Tarralyanna always gave her very best. But her legs are this long!" She indicated her own height and shook her head as she thought about Lady Tarralyanna. "She runs like the wind. But she was all bruised and swollen when she was a child – jumping simply did not agree with her. It is not in her nature. But she worked very hard and learned how to jump, how to turn in the air, all of that."

"If jumping did not agree with her, I wonder where that puts _me_?" Tyananna muttered grumpily, glancing over herself.

Tyananna walked over to her wardrobe, pulled out the least horrible black shirt and put it on. Peetah glanced over her as Tyananna tried to tuck the now too wide shirt in her trousers.

"I must make you new clothes," Peetah said, delighted. "Let me take your measurements now, my child."

She pulled out a measuring tape from her pocket and startled bustling around Tyananna, who was now frowning at the prospect of getting even more sepulchral clothes, only in a smaller edition. She was once again very grateful that the old Malaskian could not read her thoughts.

"What would you like? I noticed you like that one best," the Malaskian said, pointing at the shirt she was wearing. Tyananna wore it often only because it was the most comfortable, without those silly embroideries, pearls and black lace. She decided to try her luck.

"Well, something simple and comfortable. And no dresses, I do not like dresses. Especially not with the... embroideries. Something like the things you make for Lord Tammutyen," she said. Peetah furrowed her brow.

"You do not like dresses?" Peetah asked, staring at her. The expression on the Malaskian's face was telling Tyananna that she was disappointed. She always tried to make her as comfortable as possible and to offer her things, in terms of cooking or clothes, which would please her the most.

"Perhaps I used to, but my taste has changed," Tyananna said quickly.

This seemed to be the right thing to say, because Peetah's expression changed at once.

"Wonderful," she exclaimed, picking up her measuring tape again. "That means you are advancing, growing in the Dark side. Oh, I am so pleased, my child, so very pleased."

She sniffed as she took her measurements and then wrote them down on a scrap of paper, folding it as Tyananna put her cloak on, shaking her head.

"You have spoken to my Lady Tarralyanna, have you?" Peetah asked quietly, turning to her, but unable to hide the impatience in her voice.

"Through the Dark side, yes," Tyananna answered, thinking back about her brief 'conversation' with her. She was still racking her brains about it – nothing of the sort was possible with the light side, as far as she knew. One could exchange sentences and words with careful repetition and concentration, but it could not be as elaborate as what she experienced, so detailed and so amazingly real. She almost felt as though she had been to their camp herself.

"She is well," Tyananna said, realising that Peetah was worried about her, but did not dare to ask directly. She was probably not allowed, she thought. "They are riding very hard, though. Lord Tammutyen was with her, they were sitting under an awning. I suppose they sleep under it."

"She has been gone just once before," Peetah said quietly, folding a sheet without looking at it, her hands moving mechanically. "But I do miss her."

Of course, she had not been told why she was gone and what she was ordered to do, Tyananna concluded. She wondered whether her good opinion on her and her adoration of the Sith knight would cease if she knew that the Dark Lord had sent her to perform executions.

Then she looked back at Tyananna, who was once again critically glancing over the content of her wardrobe, thinking about how she was going to give Peetah her opinion and not offend her.

"But I have you now, miss Tyananna," Peetah said happily. Tyananna turned to look at her round face shining with glee. "I have you to care about. And it makes me very happy, you know."

Tyananna realised that Peetah probably regarded Lady Tarralyanna as a daughter, and now she got another one, to serve as a substitution to the first one when she was gone. Her expression softened as she looked at the Malaskian, who found her purpose and her fulfilment in life by taking care of others, cooking and sewing, cleaning after them and watching them grow and develop. The dimension of where and how this was happening, what it meant, seemed to be completely ignored by the Malaskian. Or perhaps she never knew any other purpose and regarded this one, growth in the Dark side, as the right one and the only purpose which ever existed.

"I am glad I have you, too, Peetah," she said warmly, coming over to her and embracing her. The poor woman did not expect something like that and burst into joyful tears.

"Oh, miss Tyananna," she choked, kissing her hands. "You warm my heart!"

As Peetah departed to cook lunch, still sniffing and smiling at Tyananna, she thought back about her plans to escape the Temple. It would break the old woman's heart, she realised. Tyananna sighed and picked up her notebook from her table, heading to the library and playfully spinning her wooden M'Hoor as she walked, which steadily revolved in her callused hand.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

When she came back from the library, she found a little package on her bedside. She furrowed her brow, thinking that it was from Peetah. But the black wrapping was so uncharacteristic of her, she thought, carefully placing a hand on it. Suddenly she knew who sent her that gift. Her Master. Inside she found a large wooden box and opened it, her hands trembling with excitement. It was a lute and the most beautiful lute Tyananna had ever seen. The polished wood was dark cherry wood and the strings, she concluded, were probably taken out of a tail of a sturdy Gotan mountain horse. She sat down immediately and took it into her hands, placing her fingers on the strings. A soft, yearning melody spread through the room as she remembered the lullaby she once used to play, and tears came to her eyes. It was all just a distant memory, something gone and forgotten; but the fact that a lute, such a lute, a true masterwork, was a gift from her Master, was actually what touched her. The past was gone and she should not live in it; but she had the present, she had a new family and a new teacher.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Eyes full of admiration and respect, she followed him in his advancement toward her as she waited for him in front of the Temple and knelt when he came to stand before her. She expected him to ask her about the lute, but he did not mention it. He merely proceeded to explaining how she would recognise the second route and gave her general instructions. A little crestfallen and feeling slightly empty, a few moments later Tyananna was running, but concluding that perhaps he did not want to make her think he was too soft with her.

But in the evening, Tyananna sat down by the window with the lute in her hands. Her fingers ran dreamily over the strings, and she found herself perfectly able to remember all of the tunes she ever learned to play on it. The music she was now producing was a piece of something she missed in the Sith Temple. She wondered how people could live without music, thinking about what Lady Tarralyanna said concerning it, that she had no time to listen to it. She thought about her, wishing she could hear her play, and wondering whether she would like it. The quiet Sith knight would get excited at things Tyananna never found exciting or breath-taking; and at those times Tyananna could tell the cold Sith knight was feeling something. She wondered whether the study of the Dark side would lead her to such emotional coldness, but this proved her wrong. The dreamy, melancholic voice of the past spoke to her through her music and she was crying before she realised what was happening.

She tried to think of Lady Tarralyanna, to spread out her senses, to reach out for her through the Dark side. She felt the need to tell her about it, to perhaps make her hear her music, to share this joy with someone. And, to her surprise, she felt an answer. She played on, thinking about Lady Tarralyanna more intently and believing she succeeded in locating her through the Dark side. Lady Tarralyanna was riding, she felt, feeling her weariness and hearing the wind howling in her ears. Surprised by getting such a vivid impression, Tyananna paused a little, listening, but then went on with her playing. A melancholic, dreamy suite filled her chambers and she felt Lady Tarralyanna listen intently. After a while, she could feel Lady Tarralyanna's reaction and her admiration.

'Beautiful,' she heard Lady Tarralyanna's voice. She listened and listened, riding with her eyes closed, at what another presence appeared in this mental connection. Lord Tammutyen was listening, too, his eyes closed, his gloved hand clenched around the reins of his horse. The dim outlines of mountains were fading behind their backs and the vast land of Quentaa spread before them as they rode into the gathering darkness, two zealous shadows, streaking past streams and lakes like arrows, riding to execute their Master's will. Lord Tammutyen was deeply touched by her music; and he made her promise to play the instrument for them when they came back. Their reaction was everything and more than Tyananna hoped for; because they shared her joy and appreciated her music.

'Your music, Tyananna, it is the voice of the Dark side speaking through you,' Tyananna heard Lord Tammutyen's voice. Then the connection faded, as she felt that they two ran across something and had to deal with it. Sitting quite still with the unmoving lute in her hands, Tyananna tried to recall what it was, whether it was some sort of an animal, an enemy, what was it, but she could not remember.

Tyananna looked at the tall trees growing under her window and wondered what could it be. She hated the idea that the Dark Lord sent them to perform executions, but she did not blame them for what they were about to do – they were merely doing what the Dark Lord ordered them to do. And as for the Dark Lord, well, in a way she could understand him as well. He was executing the will of the Dark side and he had to keep his allies close to him. She could understand his line of thought. But she did not approve of it. She sighed, put her lute away and went to meditate.

Miles and miles away, hidden behind a large trunk of a tree, the two Sith were now exchanging glances and speaking through the Dark side. They thought they ran across someone active in the Force and hid, both physically and from the Force, using the technique their Master recently taught them. It meant being invisible physically, but also to the eyes of the Force. As they closed their eyes and melted with the Dark side, miles away, the Dark Lord lifted his head and nodded. He taught them well. The people coming in their direction could only be Jedi, Lord Tammutyen thought, listening with his eyes closed. Lady Tarralyanna agreed. We should try and see whether we can eavesdrop a little, he thought. She agreed again; but we must not harm them, she thought. With a regretful sigh, Lord Tammutyen agreed.

Thus their communication went when they were on their own. Neither of them took the lead and they always discussed everything carefully, to agree on all points, and only then they would proceed.

After perhaps half an hour later they finally heard soft voices and looked at each other in amazement. The Jedi did not seem to be careful at all about whether someone might be lurking nearby. The two Sith could no longer sense the Force being used. Of course, they could just feel the light side being used and not the light side itself. But, Lady Tarralyanna thought, we do not know whether we can feel them using the Force _each_ time they do. We might be blind to it, on some occasions. Lord Tammutyen's eyes gleamed in moonlight as they followed the advancement of the two Jedi across the meadow dotted with flowers of all colours. Quietly the two Sith rode on Jedi's tail, cloaked in the Dark side.

"One more week," said one Jedi in a weary Albinian. "We shall ride to Gotan and then return to the Temple. I just do not see what else we could do."

"But, master," the other figure protested– of course, they would always ride in master-apprentice formations, Tarralyanna thought. "Something must have happened to them! You said so yourself! They could not have just vanished into thin air!"

The Jedi master growled, annoyed. His young apprentice did not know when to stop and the meaning of the phrase 'if you do not have something worth saying, then keep quiet' seemed to be quite foreign to him.

"And what about the rumours of the Sith living in Gnath?" the apprentice asked eagerly.

"Sith or no Sith," the master answered with an exasperated sigh, "nothing can survive in Gnath. Even a Sith needs water to drink, food to eat. The Force cannot provide nourishment for them no more than it can for us. Thus no Sith can live there and there is absolutely no point in discussing this any more."

Silence fell on the two and Tarralyanna and Tammutyen were trying very hard not to laugh. Even Lady Tarralyanna, who always fanatically followed the rules, thought this was terribly funny and amusing.

"We shall sleep here," the Jedi master said at last, pulling up his horse by the very stream Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen crossed before they sensed them coming. But of course, Lady Tarralyanna thought, delighted. The Jedi sleep throughout the night! Maybe we will get the chance to hear more, Lord Tammutyen thought. They crept behind them, leading their horses by the rein, and checked when one of the Jedi horses neighed, obviously warning its master that there was another horse in the vicinity. But they did not react. Instead, they tied their horses and began gathering twigs to light a fire. Its smoke rose high in the air and by then Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen were in stitches. Anyone following them, anyone at all, would see it and smell it. Heads close and still cloaked in the Dark side, the two peered through the large shrub right behind their backs, identical grins frozen on their faces, straining their ears to hear what would be said over dinner. Albinians always talk during their meals, Lady Tarralyanna thought. Tyananna told her that Albinians loved to talk while they ate, especially if they sat by a camp-fire.

"What do _you_ think about it, master?" the young Jedi inquired, who was an Albinian, whereas his master looked as though he had Malaskian blood in his veins. "I remember the girl – she and master Waak-Lin were inseparable. It would not surprise me if they fled away together. But what about master Bakku?"

"It is very wrong to speak ill of the members of the Council," the Jedi master said grumpily. But the young Jedi was staring at him with expectation, bating his breath. This, if nothing else, made the Jedi master decide he would at least tell him what he thought of the matter and be done with it, satisfy his apprentice's silly curiosity.

"Master Bakku was a powerful and wise Jedi. He saw and experienced many things throughout his long life. But to one who has grown up during turbulent times, peace can come as a surprise. One begins seeing things, believing things one would like to believe."

"So, you are saying that his visions were a product of his fantasy, master?" asked the apprentice eagerly.

"I have not said that," the master growled, tossing a dry branch into the fire. "I said it might have contributed to it. But," His face darkened and the two Sith listened very carefully, not to miss a single word. "The Sith have been quiet for a very long time. Too long, if you ask me. I would not be surprised to find one lurking about."

The two stirred, their anxiety now growing, as they felt these words were almost prophetic. But the Jedi master did not seem to be able to sense the Dark side around him, at least not in a sense that he could recognise it for what it was. He shuddered instead and got closer to the fire, apparently sensing the chill of the Dark side and thinking the night was getting colder. But then again, Lady Tarralyanna thought, one cannot identify something one knows nothing about. Unlike them, of course; for the Dark Lord demonstrated the light side for them and taught them how to recognise it.

"What should we do, master, if we encountered a Sith?" the apprentice asked. The master laughed.

"You need to start living here and now and not in your fantasy world, young one," he told him.

"Theoretically, my master," the apprentice said quickly.

"Theoretically?" the master said thoughtfully, gazing into the fire with a very dark expression on his face. "We should bring him to the Council. But no Sith would allow to be taken away just like that. He found fight, oh yes."

"And we would fight back!" the apprentice said enthusiastically, punching the air with his fist. The master laughed again and tapped the apprentice on his shoulder.

"Let your enthusiasm be directed elsewhere," he said, sounding amused. "I do not see a Sith coming down the road, ready to fight you. Besides, we do not know much about them; we have no idea what they can do."

They could be hiding right behind your fat Jedi back and be listening at every word you say, Lord Tammutyen thought grimly. Lady Tarralyanna nudged him in the ribs, but smiled, straining her ears to hear what the master would say next.

"What do they want, master? I cannot understand that," the apprentice asked.

"What do they want?" the master echoed, sounding a little surprised. "To kill, to rampage about, to destroy; to kill as many Jedi as possible."

You got that right, Lord Tammutyen thought, glancing hungrily over him.

"To wreak havoc and make chaos."

"But why?" the apprentice asked. Perhaps his youth and his inexperience made him ask all the right questions, Lady Tarralyanna thought.

"Chaos is a purpose by itself," the master said. "It does not need a reason to exist, nor to do what it does. It only wants to dominate, to spread its malice and its desire to rule all living and non-living; to rise against the harmony and peace."

"So the Dark side is chaos?" the apprentice asked.

"Yes," the master nodded seriously. Lady Tarralyanna lifted her thin eyebrows. It really sounded as though the Jedi master meant what he said. "A chaos of negative emotions such as hatred, anger, lust for power, jealousy and so on."

"But a human being cannot feel all that at once!" the apprentice protested. "He would burst!"

"A human, no," the master said quietly. "But no one ever proved that the Sith were human. They always concealed their faces and no one ever saw what was under their hoods. Who says they were mortal, that they were human? For all we know, a Sith race might have existed aeons ago, which got extinct. They might have been unable to feel any positive emotions."

"A horrible thought, master," the apprentice said thoughtfully, sounding appalled. "A creature which does not know joy or love? It must be a horrible creature indeed."

"I agree," the master said, nodding sharply. "But now let us go to bed. We have a long day ahead of us."

They wrapped themselves in their sleeping covers and Lady Tarralyanna tugged Lord Tammutyen by the cloak. However, as he turned to go, his glance fell upon a bundle of clothes. His eye twinkled. He reached out for the Dark side and lifted a ring which was resting on the top of the pile, levitating it toward himself. The Jedi master was almost asleep and he felt nothing. But, as Tammutyen turned to go, to follow his sister through the dark forest, he thought he saw him shift a little closer to the fire, lifting up the woollen cover to his nose, apparently feeling cold after Lord Tammutyen's little show with the Dark side. It was perhaps an hour later that the two Sith burst into loud laughter, riding in a gallop toward the capital town of the Kingdom of water.


	33. Chapter 32 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Nicole: Thanks! Your review brightened up my day :D Actually Threat from the Deep is a 500K story. :) And there's a sequel. I know I sometimes exaggerate with details, but that's because I visualise everything I write about. In this part of the story I'm trying to describe what's happening to the fallen Jedi and I'm focusing on her feelings and her inner monologue.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXXII – The Eye of the Dark Lord

The orange rays of the second sun, Luth, which crept through the small window in Tyananna's chambers only served to emphasise the change in her reflection in the large mirror, at which she was staring with her eyes wide.

"Beautiful," Peetah whispered with feeling, pressing her hands to her lips. "Oh, beautiful. You see how the colour emphasises your brown eyes? You look wonderful, child."

Tyananna would have used a dozen more words for what she was seeing in the mirror, but wonderful would not have been one of them. Yes, her hair got longer and Peetah trimmed it; it was no longer flying in all directions and it was falling obediently down her back; but it was…

"RED?" she screamed, staring at her hair.

"Well, yes, the mud is red, I thought you knew that, miss Tyananna," Peetah said, picking up a large hairbrush, obviously not perceiving her shock as something negative. "And the dye seems to have strengthened your hair, too – it is quite thick now, see? Oh, I must tell my husband how well his serum is working. But do you not like it? Look at the contrast between your hair and your face, your eyes – it is beautiful. You will get used to it; I suppose it might come as a shock, if you had brown hair all your life."

Tyananna was left speechless and allowed her hair to be brushed, with Peetah standing on a tripod behind her. She stared at her reflection. At length, as shocking as the colour was, she could see what the Malaskian was talking about. Her eyes certainly stood out, but the colour of her hair was just too intense. She turned away from the mirror as Peetah finished, writhing her hands. Colour, she thought. Have I not yearned for colour in life? Have I not yearned for some other colour except black? Now she got it; not in the way she would have wanted or expected to, but nevertheless she got what she wanted.

"And here," Peetah said proudly. "I have made new clothes for you!"

Tyananna looked up, expecting the worst, but she smiled. Peetah did exactly what she told her. She made several new pairs of simple black trousers and black shirts and T-shirts which resembled those of Lord Tammutyen. Only in a smaller size. And there was nothing feminine about them. They were simple and practical.

"They are beautiful, Peetah," she said, getting up. The Malaskian was glowing. "It is just what I wanted."

"Your taste certainly changed, miss Tyananna," Peetah sniffed, while Tyananna hurried to put the new clothes on. "You see, how you lost that awful suntan of yours! You look just like my Lady when she was a child, before she got all those tattoos."

"Well, I have no intention in having snake pictures all over my body," Tyananna said, examining her reflection in the mirror once again, concluding that her hair colour actually _was_ a good contrast to the horrible black and turned to Peetah with a smile. "They do not wash off?" She only now realised she had no idea how it was done.

"Oh, no, miss Tyananna," the Malaskian laughed, carefully replacing her new clothes with the old ones. "But have you not spoken about it to my Lady?" Tyananna shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps it really was too much of a shock, she thought, and now it was slowly wearing off.

"They are done with ink," said the Malaskian. "The Lord puts ink into a hollow needle, Lady told me, and then prickles the skin, so that it assumes the same colour. That way one can draw amazing pictures. It is art."

"Needle?" Tyananna gasped, staring at her. "Horrible! And it has to hurt!"

"Not at all," the Malaskian said airily. "Lady was very young when she asked him to make her first one. It only lasts very long. And one has to sit very still."

"Why would one want to put pictures all over one's body? I noticed Lady Tarralyanna did not stop on just one," said Tyananna, sitting down at her dressing table and picking up her perfume bottle. She found it amazing and startling that she got all the perfumes she wanted, and all the soaps and bath salts she could have hoped for. She only needed to mention it to Peetah and she would get them for her. It certainly seemed that the apprentices of the Dark Lord lived surrounded by luxury.

"She likes it, miss," Peetah said. "It is a Sith custom, to inscribe one's hopes and fears, one's triumphs, on one's body, so that he might not forget them while he lives. They are always there, as a reminder."

"I see," Tyananna said slowly, thinking about this. "And what about that snake she has on her belly? Do you know what that tattoo means to her? She is not afraid of snakes; I am sure of that."

"No, she likes them," laughed Peetah. "She had that made when she was seventeen. She never told me what it means – but to you she just might. Ask her."

"I shall," said Tyananna, tearing her glance away form the smiling Malaskian who simply could not understand what the fuss was all about. The pictures looked very nice, she always thought, especially on someone like Lady Tarralyanna. It made her body look even more beautiful.

"What would you like? If you ever had one?" the Malaskian asked curiously.

"I would not," Tyananna laughed in return.

"But try to imagine something, a picture, a symbol, a phrase, that would represent your fears or hopes," the Malaskian said eagerly. "We play a game now, miss."

Tyananna thought hard about it, trying to ignore how painful the actual making of a tattoo sounded. Her fears… she feared the Dark Lord. She feared his punishment, fall from his grace, his rage, his disapproval. But no symbol she knew could represent all that, could it? Unless… she thought about his beautiful and at the same time frightening dark eyes and shuddered. She was afraid to look into his eyes and at the same time she wanted to. An eye, she thought. Yes, an eye would represent his eye, watching her constantly and never looking away.

"An eye," she whispered. "My Master's eye."

Peetah looked startled for a moment, but at length tears came to her small eyes.

"It would look wonderful on you, child," she whispered. "Where would you put it?"

"It can be anywhere, right?" Tyananna asked, now rather amused with this game. The Malaskian quickly nodded. "Well, on my shoulder, then. To watch me."

"Is it your hope, or your fear?" a quiet voice asked from the shadows. The Malaskian jumped to her feet and threw herself on the floor. Tyananna winced, shakily kneeling down. Robes dragging behind him, the Dark Lord came out of the shadows, his face concealed by his hood, his hands crossed on his back. However, a curious smile was hovering on his cruel lips. He raised a hand and the Malaskian scrambled out of the room, while he remained standing before Tyananna and staring fixedly at the top of her now red head.

"Well?" he asked softly. "Is the prospect of my eyes watching you your fear, or your hope?"

"Both," Tyananna breathed, knowing that he could wheedle out the truth from her any time he wanted and that there was no point in lying. "My Master."

"Interesting," he almost whispered, picking up a lock of her red hair and turning it over in his hand. He let it fall and distanced himself away from her, who dared to lift up her head a little.

"I like what you have done to your hair," he said, glancing over her dressing room, which was not in such a catastrophic state as it normally was. Peetah took care of that while Tyananna was in the bathtub. Lady Tarralyanna warned her that he might do that, barge into her chambers when she expected it the least and told her to be ready for it.

"After you are done with your studies," he said, advancing toward the door and turning to look at her, who was still kneeling, "I want you to meet me at the heart of the Temple. I shall teach you something concerning your meditations."

The Dark Lord naturally meant the quadratic hall, which was a kind of a crossroad. One could arrive to the different parts of the Temple only through that hall, which was why little Tarralyanna once gave it that nickname.

"What about running?" Tyananna asked.

"Today there will no running," he said softly. "Do not be late, my apprentice."

He swept out of the room and Tyananna got to her feet. She turned toward the mirror and scratched herself on the head. Once the Dark Lord left the room, she felt a little confused and disoriented.

oooooooooooooooo

Peetah made a small plait for Tyananna when she came back from the library and she departed to the heart of the Temple, feeling as though she was a different person. Was it the new clothes and the new hair colour? Her Jedi friends would never recognise her, she was sure of that. This fact surprised and saddened her at the same time, but she could not help herself not to feel excited. She wanted to see what she would develop into, how she would look like, what she could do and how powerful she would become.

The Dark Lord led her through a nondescript door and Tyananna followed him inside, pausing in the doorway. This chamber was so much different than the rest of the Temple. Everything was done in grey rough stone, giving the chamber an impression of a cave. The Dark Lord paused by a brazier to throw in a handful of dry plants and the scent which began to fill the room was not exactly pleasant, but it made Tyananna feel even more excited.

"Sit," the Dark Lord said, pointing at a cushion.

She watched as the Dark Lord leaned over a stand and passed with his hand over a black candle, which sprang to life. He always behaved as though he had all the time in the world and Tyananna found it fascinating.

"So," he said, his long black hair gleaming in the candlelight. "Your hope and your fear are my eyes watching you, all your life."

Tyananna looked down on her hands, choosing not to answer. She felt embarrassed about it – it had all been a game. However, the Dark Lord seemed to want to strip down her thoughts and her fears to the bone and this approach frightened her. Never before someone tried to take a peek into her soul that way. Maybe because no one was really interested in her?

"It all depends on you, my apprentice," he went on. "On your efforts, on your work. The inhuman keep their promises, as I have told you – only the human break them."

"But, as far as your little idea goes, I am ready to make it happen," he went on. "I approve of it."

Tyananna felt forced to say something.

"I heard from Peetah that tattoos are done with a needle," she muttered.

"True," the Dark Lord answered. "They serve, upon the first glance, as decoration; but to the Sith it is a way of bonding with what one fears or loves, with all that one cherishes or dreads. The people of Horukaan – like certain tribes – use it for entirely different purposes. According to the Sith legend, tattoos have a life of their own and by deciding to make one, a person shows readiness to deal with that particular issue and sets things into motion. The very act of tattooing marks the beginning of one's work on a particular issue and the Dark side recognises the sincere wish to deal with it and master it and it helps."

"It forever stays there?" Tyananna asked, appalled. "But what happens when this issue has been dealt with? The tattoo which represents it remains there, does it not?"

"Correct," the Dark Lord said, pursing his lips. "But you will note that all of our greatest fears and passions remain with us forever, even though they have been mastered or dealt with. Every great battle against ourselves leaves a permanent sear on our souls and makes us who we are. Only once it used to be our weakness; now it becomes our strength."

"Your idea of a tattoo speaks for itself," he went on softly. "And like I said, I am ready to make it for you," he said, finally sitting down. "Do you want that, Tyananna?"

"Do you believe it will help me in my work?" she asked in a mere whisper.

"I do," answered the Dark Lord simply.

Tyananna was aware of the fact that she felt hungry for his presence, that she yearned for his approval and his praise – she hated herself for it, but she could not help herself. And she suddenly wanted this very badly. It would help her advance more quickly and leave some things behind which were troubling her.

"I want it," she heard herself say. Slowly she began to believe that she was developing a split personality – one was Larynthe and one was Tyananna. Right now Larynthe wanted to kick Tyananna in the shins for her stupidity.

"Very well," the Dark Lord said calmly. "In two days, after lunch. You shall come to my tower."

"Now, meditation," he said seriously. "You have had a good head start. The symbol I gave you protected you from the negative influences of the Dark side and allowed you to focus on working on your mind control – but naturally, you cannot use the symbol to help you all the time. In your future work, if you get burned from time to time, it is because you have to make mistakes, because you have to get burned, in order to learn, in order to advance and learn how to control your mind. Some things simply cannot be understood if one does not try and fails. The control of one's mind is central to my teaching. It is absolutely essential that you reach a reasonable level of mind and emotion control before attempting advanced and demanding work with the Dark side, such as the Force Lightning."

Tyananna dimly remembered the streaks of lighting coming from Lady Tarralyanna's fingers.

"Thus this time, you shall sink into meditation on your own, do it as you have been doing it up to now, only without the symbol. And I shall be there, following you and pointing out your mistakes to you, helping you to deal with the traps of your mind and correcting your technique. It shall be very educative for you, though very exhausting and hard, I must warn you. However, that will be nothing compared to my task. My task is infinitely harder, for I must be your eyes and your ears and I must monitor your will and get it back on the track when it yaws off course. I will ask of you not to stop whatever happens, because I will be there. You must have no fear."

"I understand, Master," Tyananna said quietly, settling herself better on her cushion and taking a few deep breaths. He nodded, placing his wrists on his knees and closed his eyes.

She slowly sank into meditation, but she found it came easily to her in the Dark Lord's presence and in this strange room. As soon as she broke through the confines of her confused and erratic thoughts and felt the Dark side around her, she felt powerful arms embrace her and for a moment she was confused, almost ready to return back to her waking state, until she hear the Dark Lord whisper in her ear. It is him, she thought, her heart missing a beat! His mental arms held her firmly and together they watched the thoughts and impressions flashing through her mind. Though Tyananna tried to push away the thoughts which appeared in her mind, the thought of how amazing this was lingered behind until the Dark Lord's presence pushed it forcefully away and she felt herself relaxing in his embrace and continuing with her meditation. When she suddenly felt bored, the Dark Lord pushed her forward and she found herself yearning to explore the deeper states of her consciousness and boredom disappeared.

The shadows and images which would normally prey on her fears and doubts were not there, undoubtedly due to the sheer presence of the Dark Lord. Proud and feeling more confident about the whole thing, Tyananna went on with her meditation, sinking deeper and deeper. If she ever doubted the Dark Lord before, all of her doubts vanished into thin air now, as he guided her and led her onward. His presence was like a sword which cut through everything and in this state, in which she should have been vulnerable, because if the Dark Lord abandoned her now, there was no telling what the destructiveness of the Dark side would do to her, she realised that she really did trust him with her life and soul.

The Dark Lord's presence began pointing at her emotions and instructing her how to control them and how to distance herself away from them. He guided her with apparent ease through the mess of her thoughts and doubts and cleared the path. In such a meditative state, she felt she understood everything and everything was crystal clear to her.

And so the master and the apprentice travelled through the Dark side together, while he pointed out the things she would not normally be aware of and which resurfaced in her meditation. He pushed away her irrational fears and replaced them with a feeling of intoxicating power. And for the first time in her life, Tyananna was riding on the raging waves of the Dark side without fear and without doubt in herself. And she felt at home.

As she felt him tug at her consciousness, which was exploring the ocean of power which was the Dark side, she felt as though she was falling and falling until she became aware of her own body and the strange scent which permeated the room. Slowly she opened her eyes and saw that his dark eyes were looking straight at her.

"We had an adventure in the Dark side, my apprentice," he said quietly.

Tyananna smiled broadly.

"Now you got some answers," he said, extinguishing the black candle. "And I expect progress."

oooooooooooooooooo

That evening, as Peetah was drawing the black curtains in her bedroom and was getting ready to leave, Tyananna detained her. Something occurred to her.

"Peetah, does the ruler of Gotan not know about the Temple? It is far too large for someone not to see it," she asked.

The Malaskian gaped at her. Tyananna shrugged, tacitly asking her what was amiss. She mentioned the Dark Lord, and yes, Peetah could become very edgy and nervous when one mentioned him, but Tyananna thought that this time she was really exaggerating.

"My dear child, what nonsense you ask!" she exclaimed, laughing. "The Lord is the Lord of Gotan!"

"You mean to say," Tyananna whispered at length, for it took a while before she processed this shocking bit of information, "That the Dark Lord is the King of Gotan?"

"I thought you knew, child," Peetah laughed nervously, shaking her head.

"How… is that possible?" Tyananna asked. "I heard that Gotan was ruled by a tall, merciless, eccentric man who wrote strict laws… no one dares to set foot into Gotan, with all those death penalties…"

"You must not talk of… him like that," Peetah gasped, going pale. "Shush, shush, miss, do not say another word!"

"But," Tyananna went on, not the least discouraged, "for how long has he been ruling Gotan?"

"For over thirty years, child," Peetah whispered, adjusting her bed covers despite of the fact they were perfectly smooth. "He came to the throne after the death of King Haemallius."

"I heard of _him_," said Tyananna, thinking, "But then his name is…"

"Do not say it aloud!" Peetah whispered, clapping her mouth with her hand, appearing so fearful that her eyes looked as though they were going to pop out of her head any moment. Tyananna was staring at her in shock, her mouth tightly shut, resolute not to give the old Malaskian the chance to faint. Peetah looked a little embarrassed at her reaction, that she dared to touch Tyananna like this, and bowed her head, withdrawing her hand.

"Now, go to sleep, child," she muttered after whispering a sincere apology.

She left the room as quickly as she could, leaving Tyananna staring at the ceiling with her head full of thoughts. She considered reaching out to Lady Tarralyanna and asking her about this, but she was sure that the Malaskian servant told her the truth.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

The rough stone walls reflected the golden light of the second sun as it slowly descended into its celestial bed. An orange trail was dragging lazily after it like a cloak of a celestial king as Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen rode in a gallop toward the capital city of the Kingdom of Quentaa. The jaded banner of the Kingdom was hanging listlessly over the entrance, beaten by weather, speaking clearly about the recent events which were tearing the Kingdom apart. The stale breath of what used to be a proud Kingdom which loved and respected its King slammed hard into the two Sith who rode cloaked in the Dark side, pausing before the gate. They drank in the atmosphere, waiting for the means to creep inside, knowing they had a lot of work to do here.

Finally they rode inside following a heavily laden cart which trudged through the massive gate, still cloaked in the Dark side and invisible to the human eye. They rode toward the palace, avoiding people going home – drunkards swaying down the streets, a group of men coming home after a hunt and young rascals running across the street, chased by a tradesman as they obviously stole something. Quietly they arrived in a hard trot to the palace of the King and there revealed themselves to the guards who stood before the gate.

As the wind brushed against the tall trees overlooking the many water pools within the grounds of the royal Palace, the soft, sleepy light of the lanterns swinging in the breeze revealed two black riders, who seemed to have appeared out of thin air right before them. The guards screamed and lifted their spears – their first thought was that they were some sort of fiends, who could make themselves invisible to the human eye and were there to slay them. Little they cared about their King.

"Keep it down, you idiots," Lord Tammutyen hissed, as he pulled down his hood with an impatient movement to reveal his face. The guards blinked, trying to decide whether the sight of the formidable Sith knight was a product of a drinking delirium, or whether they were really there. "We come from the Kingdom of Gotan and we are here to see your King. Now, hurry up with those gates."

The guards' glances travelled from their black cloaks and strange weaponry to the royal insignia on their horses' chests, which were gleaming with gold. They jumped to their feet and unbolted the heavy gate, opening it. They were led into the grounds of the Palace where they jumped off their horses while they were still in a trot, which got caught by the ostlers who came running up to them as soon as they saw that royal guests have arrived.

The King of Quentaa was getting ready for bed, apparently, because he appeared in the council chamber bare-headed and wearing his dressing gown only, accompanied by his servants and two of the members of his Council.

"I have not expected you until next week, Lord and Lady," he said, glancing over them, who stood fully armed before him.

"We rode hard," Lady Tarralyanna said before Tammutyen could open his mouth. "We come to solve your little problem."

The King sighed and sat down thoughtfully on his throne, while the two were shown to sit before him.

"My little problem," the King said quietly, his forehead wrinkled with worry, "got a little bigger in the meantime, and it is most kind of the Lord of Gotan to send you here."

He raised his glance to look at them, but he saw nothing but cold indifference on the faces of the two Sith. He glanced over the strong figure of Lord Tammutyen with unease.

"Preparations for my dethronement are in full swing," he said quietly. "And a few little incidents which took place three days ago did not help."

"Please explain," Lady Tarralyanna said promptly, her sapphire eyes fixed on him.

The King glanced over them with relief, grateful for the fact they were sitting in his throne room with him. If anyone could resolve his situation, they could.

"Someone burned down the town's reserves of rye," he said bitterly. "As you know, we need to import rye, corn, potatoes and many other things because they simply cannot grow here. And it did not stop there. Someone sabotaged the dam on the Facollae river, which joins Aalyan river several miles away from the capital town, as you must know. Well, the river flooded the peasants' houses and their watermills, ruined their business and deprived them of homes, killed their sheep, their goats and what not. I have no doubt it was a sabotage; that dam was built by my father, during the great floods at the beginning of the Third Age, right after the war, and all these years it stood there. For it to get completely destroyed is simply not possible."

Lady Tarralyanna opened her mouth to say that they came there to execute the conspirators and that she expected all problems would cease once they were dead, but thought better of it. She gave a snide smile, looked at her brother, who caught her thought and smiled as well. The King glanced from one to the other, not understanding what was going on, but perceiving the chill floating between them.

"I have an idea," Lady Tarralyanna said, still smiling snidely. "Of course, we shall execute our orders. But Lord Tammutyen and I would like to play their game before they do that. And I am certain we can win."

"Tell me, Lady Tarralyanna," said the King, giving her a smile of gratitude.

The matter troubled him, for it did not only mean he would be beheaded; it meant that the people of Quentaa would be left to the mercy of the schemers. The King had no heirs; both of his sons died a few years ago, and he had only one daughter left. It was not a custom for the Kingdom of Quentaa to have a woman rule, as it was the custom of some lands and kingdoms across Horukaan. Besides, he did not believe she would rule too well. She was too immersed in her dream world.

"We shall do the opposite," Lady Tarralyanna said, nodding sharply and embracing her knee with her gloved hands, the jewel on her forehead glinting. "We shall invent problems and scandals which you shall resolve."

"How do you intend to do that?" the King asked, amazed.

But deep within, he had to confess that, although this sounded like a very daring idea, if it worked, it would certainly prove to be very effective. And, knowing Lady Tarralyanna's reputation, having seen what she could do, he could not doubt she would succeed at it.

"You leave that to us," Lord Tammutyen said in turn, clenching and unclenching his enormous fist as he thought about all those people just waiting for him to kill them and passing with his tongue quickly over his lips, what Lady Tarralyanna observed and chuckled.

"First we must be certain that you are safe," Lady Tarralyanna said. "We shall question all of your guards and personal valets, for we have to make certain all of them are loyal to you, that they would not betray you. Then you shall remain at your Palace."

"Surely none of my servants or guards would think of betraying me," the King cried, looking appalled.

"We must be sure of it," Lady Tarralyanna said, her sapphire eyes now gleaming with excitement. At length, the King sighed and nodded.

"Find someone who knows a lot about the people, like that Head of Protection, what was his name?" she went on. "And send him to us. We shall need him as a source of information and as our guide. And then the show can begin."

She laughed throatily, turning to her brother and spilling out a sentence in that hissing language the King heard them use before, at what he laughed as well. The King could not put into words how much this meant to him. As far as he was concerned, the matter was already resolved.

"After we wreak enough havoc and resolve it," Lady Tarralyanna went on, still smiling, "We shall do what the Dark Lord ordered us to do in the first place."

"Which is?" the King asked hopefully.

"Execute the conspirators, of course," Lord Tammutyen interjected, lifting an eyebrow, as though he was surprised the King had no idea about it.

The King gasped and grasped the arms of his throne, looking as though he might lose his balance. The Sith exchanged quick glances, surprised with his reaction, not knowing what to make of it.

"Kill them…!" the King whispered, finally regaining control over his own voice. "No, no, no! You cannot kill them!"

"And why is that, my good King?" Lord Tammutyen asked icily.

"Because…" the King stuttered, shaking his head, trying to think of something to tell them, because the eyes of the two Sith were boring into him like daggers as they obviously expected a good argument. "The people would think I have done it!"

"And?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, shrugging. "You would have, surely, if you had people able enough to do this. Your enemies must be very cunning; but this is why we are here."

Lord Tammutyen let out an excited growl and sighed. The King was livid. He jumped to his feet, his eyes flashing.

"You do not understand!" he yelled, beside himself. "That is not the way I rule! I do not kill people because they have a grudge against me! I would lock them in prison, that is all!"

"My King, we have orders from the Dark Lord of the Sith, to whom you have pledged your allegiance," Lady Tarralyanna said, slowly getting to her feet.

"You have the privilege of our assistance and our presence here because of this, because of the Dark Lord's grace. Do not ruin his trust in you."

"But…" whispered the King, staring at her. "This cannot be!"

Lady Tarralyanna's beautiful sapphire eyes flashed with fury and he swallowed. Lord Tammutyen got to his feet, too, watching the King with an expression of deepest contempt. Their friendliness dispersed in a moment and the chill of the Dark side pervaded the room within seconds, spreading like noxious gas.

"Did you think you had a choice?" Lady Tarralyanna asked quietly, staring at him. "Those were the orders of the Dark Lord of the Sith," she said. "And they will be executed. Or… you can face his… disapproval."

The guards understood perfectly well everything she said, but had no idea what she was talking about. They were simply told that the two were the prince and the princess of Gotan and that they had to be shown respect, being honoured guests of the King. But this surpassed their understanding. Pale, barely breathing, the King stood quite still before his throne, whereas his guards did not dare to move a muscle. He was watching the two Sith who simply stared back; but their cold glances were worse than a threat for the King. God knows what they could do. God knows what _he_ could do, he thought. The King weighed his options. He would be beheaded in a few days; it was only a matter of time. What did his good reputation matter, or the fact he never spilled blood or punished people for not agreeing with him? He was at the mercy of the Sith Lord and he gave in. He had no choice.

He sat down wearily and called to the guards, who approached him carefully, not taking their glances off the two Sith. The two Sith were ready to slay all of his guards in a matter of seconds; they looked calm and still, but their hands were resting on the hilts of their swords underneath their cloaks.

"Summon everyone," the King said quietly. "The Prince and the Princess shall wish to speak to everyone. And after you have done that, tell Lonloy I have a task for him and send him here."

The guards listened, uncertain whether this was what he really wanted and not what the Prince and Princess wanted.

"NOW!" roared the King all of a sudden.

The checkmate situation filled him with despair and he felt there was nothing else he could do. As it was highly uncharacteristic for him to get so angry and yell at his servants and soldiers, it left an impression on his men and they hurried to do what he told them to.

The eyes of the King fixed again upon the two Sith. What did he get himself into? It was his good friend, his counsellor and his advisor, the King of Gotan, who gave his apprentices such horrible orders. He, the King of Quentaa, was to allow such a bloodshed take place before his very nose? Perhaps he was too used to executions in his own land; but the King of Quentaa always prided himself with being a man of the people, who worked for the people and who loved his Kingdom.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen, as soon as they left the throne room, submitted their report to the Dark Lord, who was at the time eating lunch with Tyananna. She perceived that he was listening and she could vaguely hear the voices of her friends, but she did not want to intrude. She understood that they arrived at their destination and that they spoke to the King, but that was all. And this left her content.

Now that Tyananna knew what his name was, she had an answer to some of her questions. For instance, it explained all of his sudden absences, the luxury and the sheer size of the Sith Temple. However, she noted that most Kings would eat with their families or with their generals, sleep in royal bedrooms and so on. The Dark Lord seemingly had no one – no wife, no children, no relatives. Instead he lived alone in his tower and spent his time with his apprentices.

"I have called for a meeting," he said unexpectedly. Tyananna wondered whether he would be angry with her for asking questions about his name and his position. But if Peetah would not have told her, Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen would.

"I used to take Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen with me to such meetings," he went on, looking straight at her. "But today I want you to come with me."

"What sort of meeting, my Master?" she asked quietly.

"A council," the Dark Lord said calmly, "which concerns my allies. I need to bespeak everything with my servants in order to keep them up to date; but more importantly, because it often involves their active participation."

When the Dark Lord said 'my servants', Tyananna flinched without meaning to. She now knew who he was and she tried to fit all those horrible rumours about him into the description of the man who became her Master, her teacher and her guardian.

"Then…" she dared to say, trying to keep her voice even and putting away her beautiful goblet, "They know? You… you have told them, my Master?"

"I needed to," the Dark Lord said calmly. "It was time. I have been hiding for too many years and I have been harbouring too many secrets. I presented myself as I am before them, before a few chosen ones, my trustees, and I brought my apprentices with me. Needless to say that… shock and disbelief were their first reactions."

"But Master," she said after a pause. "I do not know much about politics or about rulership."

"It does not matter, for the present moment," he said, waving off with his hand. "You will go there as my apprentice – that is quite enough. You will not be required to speak at all, if you do not wish to, but I want you to be there and to listen very carefully, to observe my servants, to note their reactions and to hear what is going be said. That will be your task."

"Oh," she said, relieved. "I can do that, Master."

"Very well," the Dark Lord said, straightening up. "That shall take place tomorrow; and today, as we agreed, you shall come to my tower to get your desired tattoo. You shall now go to the library and proceed with your work on the book I have given you to read yesterday, while I prepare everything. When I call you, you shall come."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Tyananna pored over the book entitled 'The Races of the World and Their Interaction Throughout History' nervously, trying to think about everything Lady Tarralyanna told her about her own tattoos, but she could remember nothing, except what Peetah told her. The finality of the act evoked strange emotions within her – fear, expectation, dread, but also, a curious feeling of contentment and relief, knowing that she already brought a decision. She forced herself to keep reading and though she found the book very interesting and was besides reading in Albinian, what made her task easier, she caught herself staring blankly at one page and thinking about needles.

When she sensed a soft call through the Dark side and lifted her head, uncertain whether she heard well and then hearing it again, she got to her feet and departed toward the Dark Lord's tower with a cold sense of foreboding. She found him in his study, fumbling with phials.

"Take your cloak and your shirt off, Tyananna," he said once she got to her feet, staring at his equipment with anxiety growing within her. She did as she was told, while he lifted a corked tube in the air and tapped it with his forefinger.

"Now," he said, turning to her. "You shall visualise what you want the best that you can. Simply focus on your vision of it."

Tyananna obediently closed her eyes, rummaging through her weary brains and trying to recall the picture of the eye when she visualised it for the first time. Several versions of it appeared in her mind and she tried to decide on one, but the Dark Lord interrupted her.

"Very well," he said. "Turn your left shoulder to me and relax your arm."

She did so, her palms already sweaty. She heard the tinkle of phials and tubes, until she felt his cold hand on her upper arm. Trying not to show how much this meant to her, she stared purposefully at the floor, resolved not to watch, because if it involved needles, she did not want to see them.

"This will last for while," he said quietly, taking something into his other hand and glancing over her. "So if you feel dizzy or need something, you have to tell me. And I must warn you that it will hurt a little. However, bear in mind that the pain will subside with time. Are you ready?"

She nodded, biting her lip and staring at the marble floor, trying to recall all those dates she read about in her history book, all those facts, and revise them while he was going through this horrible task.

The Dark Lord placed his whole palm on her skin and she shuddered at the touch. The following second she felt sharp pain in her shoulder and she twitched.

"Remain calm," he said, while the pain continued. "Detach yourself from the pain; the more you wriggle about, the more painful it will be."

She remained focused, struggling to remember the differences between the Albinian and Malaskian households and was listing all of the Droddian rulers since the First Age in her mind. This distraction fulfilled its purpose, though it made her lips move soundlessly from time to time. But soon all she could feel were his hands on her skin and pain faded into the background. The Dark Lord would pass from time to time with something cold and soothing over her shoulder, obviously wiping off blood or would lean aside to dip the needle in ink.

She did not request leave to go to the bathroom and time dragged on and on. Feeling seriously dizzy and dripping with sweat, Tyananna endured the pain, drinking in the power which those inhumanly cold hands radiated.

In the courtyard of the Temple shadows grew longer and longer, whereas Tyananna still sat where she first sat, not speaking at all, and not having said a word in perhaps three or four hours. When the Dark Lord spoke, it took her by surprise.

"It is done," he said, finally lifting his palm from her skin. "You may look at it."

With a sense of foreboding, Tyananna reluctantly turned her head and set her eyes on something breathtaking.

It was the embodiment of everything she imagined it should stand for – the authority, the beauty, the safety, the power. Can a symbol embody all that, she asked herself? Apparently it can. Now relieved that it was over, she grinned broadly as she glanced over the large picture of an eye on her shoulder.

"Yes, it is quite beautiful," the Dark Lord said contentedly, turning away from her and reaching out for a piece of cloth which he gently pressed against the tattoo, to wipe off the blood. But Tyananna no longer cared about the blood. She was startled with the fact he actually drew exactly what she visualised, only it was even more beautiful than her version of it. Because he added something to it and because of the sheer fact he was the one who made it. She looked up at the Dark Lord, who was putting his apparatus away. He did not look weary at all.

"Now," he said. "This is what you will be putting on it." He held up a small glass jar and placed it on the table beside her. "This paste will help your skin to heal more quickly. And you need to be careful not to scratch or damage the tattoo in any way, while your skin is still in the process of healing."

Tyananna nodded wordlessly, memorising everything he was telling her. She did not particularly like any of Lady Tarralyanna's tattoos, the snakes and dragons and all that; but she loved hers all right.

"It shall throb a little, but that is normal," the Dark Lord went on placidly, pulling open a drawer and pushing a box of what were undoubtedly needles inside, judging by the rattling sound coming from it. "Now you may go and devote yourself to your studies again."

Tyananna departed to the library, concluding in amazement that six hours elapsed since she left it. She sat down at her table, which remained just as she left it, with an addition of a fresh pot of coffee which Peetah left there for her. Grateful for her insight, Tyananna poured herself a cup and went on with her reading. She found it difficult to concentrate after what she just experienced – whether it was because of the pain or because the hands of the Dark Lord. Yes, it hurt a little; but it was worth it, she thought, pulling down her cloak every now and then to peer at her tattoo, smiling at it and already beginning to regard it as a living thing. To her it was like a final seal on her decision; there was no turning back, and Tyananna found strange consolation in this palpable proof of her belonging to the Sith.

oooooooooooooooo

Peetah helped her dress for the meeting. When she arrived to the heart of the Temple, where she was supposed to wait for him, she was taken aback with this version of the Dark Lord which presented itself before her. She rather expected luxurious clothes, gold and jewels, but the Dark Lord was still wearing his simple black robes and there was no crown on his head. Instead he wore a heavy golden medallion bearing the crest of Gotan, but that was all.

Without a word, he led the way through a small locked door at the side of the hall and ignited a torch as soon as he entered the dark space beyond the door, which turned out to be, to Tyananna's not so great surprise, a tunnel leading downwards.

They walked in silence for some time and she followed him lost in thought, glancing over his embroidered cloak – the only thing which seemed unusual about him – wondering why he was not wearing a crown or any other sort of royal insignia.

He opened a door at last and golden light flooded the underground tunnel. He left the torch in a rack beside the door and came out without looking at her. Wearing her hood, Tyananna slowly came out and paused in the doorway, quietly closing the door behind her. At least fifty people stood in a large, majestic hall which was nothing like the halls in the Temple, for it was bright and well-illuminated, high ceiling hosting a beautiful chandelier with at least twenty candles burning in it. However, the lighting fell down considerably as the Dark Lord waved a hand toward it and glanced over the summoned people. They were all standing with their heads bowed, seemingly unsurprised with Tyananna's appearance. But this was because they could not see her face.

The Dark Lord lifted a hand, and she felt as though she had a lump in her throat as he beckoned to her. The eyes of everyone fixed upon her and it was only now they realised that she was neither Lady Tarralyanna, nor Lord Tammutyen.

"This is my new apprentice, Tyananna," the Dark Lord said in a carrying voice.

Tyananna felt waves of pride spreading through her as he introduced her as his apprentice. To her, it felt like praise, which he only rarely uttered. Normally he would list his objections and point out her mistakes. But he never said 'it was a good training today', nor did he remark on disastrous sessions during which all she could think about was how badly she was doing (once it started off badly, she noted, it tended to get worse, and he once told her that she needed to learn how to be indifferent to this, saying that there was no such thing as a bad day or bad luck).

"Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen are absent," the Dark Lord said, nodding at the summoned people and taking his cloak off. "Whereas Tyananna stayed behind with me, so I brought her here to introduce her to you."

He turned to her, who stood right behind his back, wondering whether she was supposed to say something, but remembering that he said she would not be required to speak at all. He pointed a finger at a vacant chair to his right.

"_M'P'Ngah_," he said solemnly. It was obvious that he wanted her to sit down beside him. Tyananna glowed from inside. The word meant 'student, follower', but it was more than that, she learned. The Sith words were very specific. Some of them referred to a special occasion, to a special feeling, and as it was the case with the word 'darkness'. There were many variations of it – but then one knew exactly what one was talking about and ambiguity was out of the question. 'P'Ngah' was more like a title, which the Dark Lord used to address Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen.

She sat down quietly and took her own cloak off, as it was rather warm in the hall. Undoubtedly the Dark Lord insisted on it.

"And this is one of the things I am going to share with you today," the Dark Lord said, settling himself comfortably in his chair. "A messenger brought news from the Kingdom of Quentaa. Our good King stands before dethronement. I have thus sent Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen to deal with the situation."

The summoned people broke into collective muttering and a broad-shouldered man, dressed like a warrior, seemed to be shocked with these tidings the most.

"But my Lord, why?" he asked, sounding outraged, exchanging a quick glance with his neighbour. "The people of Quentaa love him," he went on. "What has changed?"

"The lust for power has many faces," the Dark Lord said quietly, smirking. "He has been set up, by those who want the crown for themselves. But this shall be of very short duration. For my apprentices shall kill the traitors and all those who stand in the King's way. Those have been their orders."

Silence fell on the table, during which the Dark Lord was busy filling his pipe. Tyananna noticed that he waved a hand toward the wine flagons. Now his servants reached after them and started filling their goblets. The Dark Lord however did not fill his own, she observed, and no one dared to do it for him. He seemed rather thoughtful as he proceeded to explain what happened in the Kingdom of water since his apprentices arrived there.

Tyananna reached out for one of the flagons herself, but she thought she should fill his chalice first, for he seemed to have forgotten about it. She waved a hand and the flagon zoomed into it. The general stared at her as she busied herself with the task of filling his chalice to the top, gently pushing it across the table toward the Dark Lord. He turned his head in her direction and nodded at her. It seemed that it was the right thing to do.

"Now the enemies of the King shall be on their guard," the Dark Lord went on. "Those who are going to survive, that is, for I cannot expect my apprentices to find all of them, as many of them undoubtedly lie in hiding. But they are wiser than the others; and they will know that the King has a powerful friend or friends, who does not tolerate such games and gives no mercy to traitors. I expect fear shall keep them where they are."

He interlaced his fingers – such a characteristic gesture, Tyananna thought – on the table and leaned a little forward.

"As for Chief Growthak, he knows his task better," he said with a quick laugh. "He never tolerated scheming and mutters behind his back and always cut everything at root, as I have advised him a long time ago. It is easy to cut a tree while it is still a seedling; but when it grows bigger, one needs a hatchet to bring it down. Growthak never shrank before dishing out punishment, nor did he ever hesitate to point his sword at a person who perhaps used to be his best friend and turned into a traitor overnight. He knows that to rule means always having eyes and ears open, for there will always be those who are hungry for power."

"And as far as my new apprentice is concerned," the Dark Lord spoke into the silence once the topic of Quentaa was exhausted, "I shall reveal to you that I have brought her to Gotan from my trip to the land of Gnath. Indeed."

Shocked gasps and exclamations followed this proclamation and Tyananna fixed her glance on his hands which were resting on the shining surface of the table.

"Yes, Ferrighan is right," the Dark Lord laughed suddenly, pointing a hand at the Chancellor, who visibly swallowed. "She is one of the missing Jedi. Whom I have taken in and began teaching. Why? I have my reasons."

"Her name does not matter, not any more," the Dark Lord went on. "For she belongs to me. And I shall forge her into a powerful Sith."

Everything he said was true; but to actually hear it evoked a very strange emotion within Tyananna, which she now desired to explore – gloating. She felt like triumphantly laughing at all those who were wondering why she embraced the Dark side, if she used to be a Jedi. She could be, what, twenty something, the Chancellor wondered, glancing over her. There is something different about her, true, different compared to the other two Sith, he thought. It was obvious she had not been raised by the Dark Lord and that she used to live a different life. But she stared at the Dark Lord with respect which could not be faked and the way she addressed him and treated him seemed sincere. What happened, to turn her around and twist her mind like this, he wondered?

"My Lord," the general said slowly, tearing his glance off Tyananna. "You told us you have killed two Jedi in the land of Gnath. Was she… one of them?"

"I never lie, Korrugen," the Dark Lord said sharply, at what the general started apologising, saying it was not his intention to imply anything of the sort. "You have been in my service for years – I thought you should know better."

"We have killed Tyananna's companion," he said. Tyananna felt nothing when he said this. The sheer mention of Waak used to provoke a violent emotional reaction, but now it was gone. "And a Jedi Master. What was his name, Tyananna?"

She lifted her glance to look at him and parted her lips, feeling for a moment as though they were glued together.

"Bakku, my Master," she said very quietly.

"I have heard of him," the general said after a fierce exclamation. "He is famous! People say he dresses strangely and that he does his hair like a wench."

Everyone laughed at this, even the Dark Lord, and, as the general was looking expectantly in Tyananna's direction, she felt compelled to say something.

"He wore braids," she added, feeling very strange while speaking Albinian again. "And he was famous for his eccentricity. But he was also very wise."

"So what the devil was he doing in Gnath?" asked the general.

"He…" Tyananna started, and paused. She never spoke about this aloud; the Dark Lord knew what happened and why it happened, she supposed, and he did not ask her about it. But these people were not Sith and they could not listen through the Dark side.

"He had a vision," she said slowly, clearing her throat, looking down on her hands, suddenly startlingly aware of the many pairs of eyes which rested on her. "The Force spoke to him and warned him about the Sith. He never said anything definite – but already the following morning he left the Temple."

"And you and your companion followed?" the Chancellor asked in turn. He was uncertain how to address her, as his Lord did not put a 'lady' in front of her name, so he decided to be careful.

"Yes," said Tyananna very quietly, shaking her head.

Now it all seemed like a distant memory, like something gone and forgotten. She remembered all of the awful things she though about the Sith – and she wondered how she could have ever been so blind? This is what they taught her, this is what they fed her with since she came to the Jedi Temple. Lies, lies, she thought bitterly! But then again, she could not blame them for their ignorance. She could blame them for one thing, though. Their intention to kill any Sith they might run across. However, she thought triumphantly, I would like to see a Jedi who would fight with me and survive it. Her own thoughts confused her.

"Bakku once used to be wise and cunning, an excellent swordsman," she said, addressing the Chancellor now. "But he has been through a war in his youth; he saw terrible things. Thus the Council never took his warnings as something serious."

She glanced around herself and at all those people listening to her breathlessly – and she suddenly felt a strange sense of self-importance and went on with a smile.

"With him gone, I do not think that anyone at the Jedi Temple would ever truly believe in the existence of the Sith," she said. "I believe they are looking for us, yes, but I do not think they believe the story about the Sith. The Council cannot sense the Dark side being used, even though they are certain they can. Even I used to believe this, before my Master proved me otherwise."

"They might start thinking about it, after Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen fulfil their tasks in Quentaa," said the Dark Lord.

Tyananna smiled at him broadly. The Chancellor simply could not understand what he did to her to turn her into something like this. The glance which she directed at the Lord of Gotan clearly reflected how she felt about him.

"However, I have ordered them not to use the Force in front of people," the Dark Lord went on. "But my apprentice is right. For now we need not worry. However, when I start making more daring moves, their suspicion shall be roused. But let us put our trust into the power of denial and the desire to remain in the state of ignorant bliss for now, until the time comes to come out in the open."


	34. Chapter 33 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

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CAP. XXXIII – Beauty of Darkness

Lonloy the Head of Protection was sitting by a log in almost complete darkness, listening hard, his heart beating fast. He held a sword in his hands, but he rather hoped he would not need to use it. He held the reins of his horse and of two others, listening as they chewed juicy grass with a melancholic expression on his face. How carefree the horses were, he thought! Without a care in the world, having no idea about politics! But at least you did not need to go with them, said a little voice within his head. Yes, that was true. The Sith ordered him to stay with the horses and stand at ready so that they could mount their horses and leave as soon as they were back.

They spent three days on this wild killing spree and the two Sith did not seem to be tired at all. They slept only a few hours and this was their favourite time of the day. Night. Right now they were creeping into a large mansion of one of the richer opponents of the King. They jumped over the wall and climbed a tree growing beside the mansion, entering through a window.

Their encounter with the man was brief, though he turned out to be far readier for an attack than the rest of their victims, because he left guards before his and his wife's bedroom. They did not pose much of a challenge for the two Sith. However, when they managed to enter the bedroom, they found that the man was sleeping with a sword in his arms and was waiting for them. As he lit a lamp and sprang out of his bed with his sword in hand, his wife screaming, his expression suddenly changed when he finally faced his cunning foes, who managed to make their way into the house despite of the guards and dogs running through the courtyard. They were not exactly what he expected.

Lady Tarralyanna quickly glanced over him, esteeming him as an opponent, whereas Lord Tammutyen stood aside anxiously, spinning the sword in his hand. They had an agreement – each would fight one opponent and the life of the victim belonged to the Sith who fought. In that way Lady Tarralyanna made certain that her rampant brother would not deprive her of her chance to practise fighting skills and that each of them would have an equal share in fighting and killing.

Lady Tarralyanna again used the chance to practise her leg technique and try out all the wonderful things she yearned to try out on a living, breathing person. Her zealousness and her aggressive approach always had a similar effect on her opponents – they no longer felt so certain about their own abilities and tended to draw back, which normally proved to be a fatal mistake. As she turned her sword and ran the man through with one quick movement, it became obvious to her that something was very wrong. Because a second before she turned her sword on him the man froze and blood started dripping from his mouth.

As she pulled out her sword, ignoring the frantic screaming of the man's wife, who got splattered with blood in the process, the body fell down on the floor and revealed Lord Tammutyen, who was standing right behind him with the sword dripping with blood in his hand. It did not take very long for Lady Tarralyanna to fathom out what happened, Dark side or not, and her eyes dangerously narrowed.

"Tammutyen!" she screamed, looking scandalised. "He was mine! We agreed!"

"He was about to attack me!" Tammutyen said defiantly, passing with his tongue over his lips – the smell of all that blood was driving him mad. "I had to defend myself!"

"Liar," Tarralyanna shot over her shoulder, as she turned to look at the woman who was still sitting in the bed and staring at her with her eyes wide, looking quite mad. "Well, I happen to remember our agreement, and I am going to honour it. I am a Sith of her word. Therefore she is yours."

She turned away from the sight of her brother leaping like a tiger on the bed and glanced through the window, wiping off her face with her bloody hand and thinking about their work. They were certainly very thorough and very effective, though they have never done something like this. But it is not exactly very hard to make a swish or a thrust of one's sword longer or deeper and in that way inflict a fatal wound. It is ridiculously easy. But she was barely standing of exhaustion, and the only thing that kept her going was the thought that she would benefit from all this killing and that it would make her stronger. She could already feel it; otherwise she would not have had the strength to keep going for so long.

"You ate enough," she said, turning away from the window and skimming over the house with her senses for the umpteenth time. Lady Tarralyanna liked to be certain about some things. They left no one alive, she concluded with satisfaction.

"Look at you," she laughed as Tammutyen straightened up, grinning at her, his chin dripping with blood. "Heart of Rage! You have a belly, like general Korrugen!"

She indicated a large mass in front of her own stomach and Tammutyen let out an angry snort. She screamed with laughter as he jumped at her and tried to grab her.

"Cut it out," she said, pushing him away. "If you get – what is it called again? The wobbly thing? Tyananna has it."

"Fat," he growled.

"Yes, that," she continued, still laughing. "I will never kiss you again or allow you to drink my blood."

She charged out of the room, leading the way downstairs, and he trudged behind her, patting his stomach. Yes, maybe he overindulged a little, he thought. But the idea of being able to do whatever he wanted with his victims was so tempting and impossible to resist that he found himself drinking far more blood than his body needed. He now felt quite sick and belched with feeling. Tarralyanna laughed again.

"The Kyo'tan do not have fat," he yelled after her. "It is a human thing."

"Whatever," Tarralyanna said, waving a hand. As he was about to walk through the front door, she detained him and pointed at the bloody heap on the floor.

"Clean your mess," she said firmly, at what he growled. "Your food, your mess. You know the rules."

He grudgingly approached the body and passed with his palm over it. It set on fire. Tarralyanna nodded at him and led the way out with her chin high, scowling at the bowl of fruit standing on the sideboard.

"They call that fruit?" she asked rhetorically, with Tammutyen now walking behind her and trying to clean himself by licking his fingers and rubbing saliva over his face. "I thought only Droddians had no idea what fruit was. Wait, wait."

She stopped, turning to him, who was licking his fingers like a cat and laughed.

"You look horrible," she said, glancing over him critically. "Come on. There is a well behind the house, we can wash ourselves there."

"Why?" he asked, bewildered, but following her nevertheless.

"First," she said, "because it is not hygienic. Second, Lonloy has no idea what you are, and we would not want to give him any pointers, would we?"

"I suppose not," Tammutyen growled.

Lady Tarralyanna filled a bucket with fresh water and placed it on the ground. Before she could start washing her hands, Tammutyen leaned forward and stuck his whole head into the bucket. He rubbed his face quickly and pulled his head out, his hair dripping with fresh, cold water. Lady Tarralyanna gracefully washed her hands and face and turned to go.

"I have to sleep," Tammutyen growled as they climbed the slope to the little thicket where Lonloy was waiting for them. "I cannot keep my eyes open."

"It is all that food, I told you, warned you about it," Tarralyanna said, shaking her head. "But does he listen? No!"

"But I suppose you are right," she said. "Our bodies need rest, if we are to finish this as we have started it."

"We need to sleep," Tarralyanna said as soon as she lazily pushed Lonloy's sword away, which he pointed at her, thinking she was an enemy. Why did he not hear them coming? "Stand guard while we do, will you?"

She sat down without any further ado and sprawled on the ground, closing her eyes. Tammutyen threw himself on the grass beside her with a deep sigh and looked at his belly before he closed his eyes. Yes, she was right; he did have a belly and he had to get rid of it somehow. Lonloy stared at them in amazement, still standing with his sword drawn, as everything happened so quickly. But he was too used to their strange habits to be surprised and he sat down again, shaking his head.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Twenty-two Horukaan hours later, the two Sith and the Head of Protection, their guide, were riding back to the Royal Palace. They crossed beautiful streams, rode around lakes and across bridges for which the Kingdom was famous, discussing the scenery and constantly asking Lonloy how this or that was called. Lonloy wondered at their curiosity; he never believed that two Sith like them, who were obviously raised and trained to kill, could be interested in rivers and gorges. But they seemed to be fascinated by everything. Although it was already very warm, they rode with their cloaks and hoods on, pointing their gloved fingers at animals which stared at them from the distance, commenting on the flowers and willows, which grew everywhere. The Kingdom of Quentaa was mostly flat and the many streams and rivers made it a perfect habitat for all kinds of animals and strange plants which required a lot of water.

After a long sleep to recover from their work – for now they had a bit more time – they sat to eat and the sheer sight of their meal made Lonloy feel seriously sick. Lord Tammutyen caught a grass snake and was eating it raw, with blood spurting everywhere, while Lady Tarralyanna dug out a handful of horrible, gnarled roots and was chewing them with gusto. Concluding there was nothing there for him to eat, Lonloy departed on a hunt on his own. They offered to catch something for him, but he declined. He just wanted to get away until they finished with their meal.

At the side of a waterfall, beside which he passed with his bow in his hands, skimming with his glance over the little clearing before him, he spotted a creature which was definetely not an animal. Lonloy froze. It was a wonderful creature; it had the face of a woman, a young woman with a pale, glowing face. She was wearing something that looked like a cobweb and which was falling like a cloak of moonlight over her knees and over the mossy knoll on which she sat, her feet stirring the cold water beneath her. Her long, soft blonde hair was falling in graceful waves over her shoulders and was almost touching the water. She hummed a tune under her breath and her body moved in the rhythm. The air of melancholy, beauty and loneliness that hovered around her completely bewitched Lonloy.

She seemed to be quite unaware of his presence. But even if she saw him, he somehow doubted she would react. She was too lost in her thoughts and, like a beautiful painting, she existed to be watched, he thought. Her hand suddenly reached downwards, toward the water, and she stirred it with her finger. Fine mist rose from the surface of the water, spiralled through the air and transformed into a rain of dazzling crystals which she collected with a sweep of her other hand. Her long fingers played with the crystals for a while, until in one moment she quickly got to her feet, glanced around herself and vanished into thin air, leaving a cloud of shimmering mist behind her.

Lonloy looked around himself, wondering what could it be that frightened her. A swarthy, human-faced creature appeared beside the willows, peering through the branches. It stepped out on the clearing and trotted across it, approaching the water. It was a centaur. These creatures were a legend; and yet the legend was standing right before him. The centaur leaned forward and began to drink. His hair, which more resembled a mane, got wet in the process, but he did not seem to care. He lifted his head at last, having drunk for what seemed like two minutes, and looked up, his glance landing on the staring Lonloy. Lonloy lowered his bow, thinking that the centaur just might attack him if he saw he was holding a weapon in his hand. But to his surprise the centaur nodded at him, turned and disappeared in the bushes before Lonloy had the chance to figure out how to act.

"What took you so long?" Lady Tarralyanna asked as soon as he got back. He was pale and was not carrying any food. Lady Tarralyanna had eaten all her roots and was now devouring apples. Quietly, his voice trembling, Lonloy told them was he saw and the two Sith listened, fascinated.

"She must have been a water fairy," Tarralyanna said when he finished. "Only water fairies can turn water into crystal like that. Was she wearing something on her forehead?"

Lonloy was startled with the question but he thought long and hard about it.

"Not that I can remember," he answered. "Why, my Lady?"

"Well, if she was a queen of a princess, she would have certainly worn insignia," Lady Tarralyanna answered, tapping herself on her own forehead. Lonloy suddenly remembered the jewel she usually wore on her forehead. "You must be careful, though. Water fairies can bewitch with their beauty and take you with them. They are dangerous."

"But the centaur, my Lady…!" Lonloy cried. "Why was she afraid of him?"

"Not necessarily afraid," Lord Tammutyen said. "He might have felt you were there and wanted to protect you from the water fairy."

"Protect me?" Lonloy echoed, startled. "I was hunting! I could have shot him, thinking he was a deer!"

"Even the centaurs know s thing or two about hierarchy, Lonloy," Lady Tarralyanna said in a very serious tone. "He must have recognised you; and I daresay that the creatures of Quentaa want to see the King back on his throne. It seems to me that everyone in his Kingdom is free to lead his or her lives the way they want to – even the creatures. This is certainly a sign that the centaurs would stand by the King, if it ever came to war."

Lord Tammutyen nodded seriously, whereas Lonloy fell silent, thinking about this. They spoke about it as though it was something everyday, as though it was normal to see a water fairy conjure crystals and a centaur trot across a sunlit meadow. Perhaps he never paid too much attention to myths. Perhaps he never really even considered the possibility that myths and legends could actually be true.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Miles and miles away, in the much colder Kingdom of Gotan, Tyananna of the Sith was sitting in the water garden, the same water garden where Lady Tarralyanna forced her to sit in the cave for hours. She was sitting in hot water and loving every second of it. Slowly she began to appreciate the fact her Master was the Lord of Gotan, which explained why his apprentices lived surrounded with such luxury.

It was her day off, the twelfth day of the week, and she spent the morning being massaged by Peetah and now she was sitting in warm water, listening to its trickling and enjoying the wonderful warmth. The air was thick with moisture and her new tattoo was well greased and was healing quickly.

The fabled Gem'Tah training took place yesterday and it was something she would not easily forget. She had never done anything like it, and though she thought her flexibility and her bodily strength were now in a shape she had never seen them before, the training was a disaster. The Dark Lord was sitting in his little leather chair in the corner and telling her what to do, who tied leather straps around her ankles and wrists.

/flashback

"Lift left leg," he said, watching her without blinking. She caught herself firmly for one of Lady Tarralyanna's bars, and did as he requested of her.

"Tighten with the strap to your head." Her leg barely went over the hip level, but he did not seem to care. "Let go of the strap. Keep the leg at the same height."

Clenching her teeth, she did so. She felt a nasty pain in her hip and she gasped. "Ignore the pain," said the Dark Lord unemotionally, examining his nails and seemingly not perceiving her agony. "Right leg, the same."

"Lie down," he said after fifteen minutes of this agony.

Tyananna, who was dripping with sweat, breathed with relief. If she was going to do what she thought she was, then it was all right.

"Lift your torso and your legs at the same time. When your head touches your legs in the air, keep that position."

Uh-oh, she thought. One simply has to have this innate, she thought desperately, rocking forwards and backwards in this uncomfortable position until she found her balance. It is just not possible to be able to do what Lady Tarralyanna does with her legs. To Tyananna she sometimes looked like a tall octopus, twining her legs around her head as though she had no bones at all. Lord Tammutyen was good – but not that good.

"Lie on your stomach," the Dark Lord's merciless orders went on. "Arch backwards, grab your feet, and pull until your head touches your feet. Hold that position." Tyananna squealed and rolled aside. However, her Master did not remark on her inability to do this as she was sincerely trying, she noted, reaching out for her feet again. This was the key with him. Never give up and always give your very best.

"Bar exercises," he said after he allowed her to drink some water. "Grab the bar with your both hands and turn around your axis."

I can do that, thought Tyananna happily, doing as he told her. He did not remark on her success, what slightly disappointed her, and merely went on.

"Grab the bar with your both hands," he said. "You are going to do a stand on the bar. First lift your torso and then slowly lift your legs."

But Tyananna could not do this, of course. But the Dark Lord did not seem discouraged the least.

He raised a hand and lifted her body with the Dark side, what felt terribly strange.

"Now when I let go, try to remain in that position by keeping your body well taut," he said. "Elongated and taut."

She managed to remain in that position for perhaps a few seconds. Her arms started trembling and finally she felt them give way under her and she let go of the bar. She would have collapsed on the ground in a heap, if the Dark Lord did not catch her with the Dark side and lower her safely back on the ground. She breathed with relief.

The bar exercises were a nightmare, she thought, jealously remembering the way Lady Tarralyanna spun around with ease. But this was only the beginning of the nightmare. After that she climbed the rope that was always hanging there and was trying to lift her body while dangling upside down like a bat, just as she had seen them do as well, finding it infernally difficult. Again she felt the hand of the Dark side push her upward. The Dark Lord assisted her in all of the exercises, including pull-ups. Trembling and barely standing upright, she tottered toward the centre of the hall. Two hours ago she stopped wondering whether this training had an end and just did what the Dark Lord told her to.

"Stretching," said the Dark Lord next.

Tyananna dropped down on the ground with relief, but the nightmare was not over yet. The hands of the Dark side pushed her legs apart and her head was pulled toward the floor, making her eyes water with pain. Her limbs twined in all possible and impossible directions, as the Dark Lord obviously realised she could not manage anything on her own any more. When he finally got to his feet and let go of her, Tyananna did not even notice it.

"I recommend Montaar's poison," he said as he passed her by. She looked up, surprised. The training was over? "Ask Peetah about it."

Montaar's poison was a remedy which main ingredient was the venom of the legendary mountain serpent. Tyananna did not really want to know what was in it and merely drank it. Within three minutes she could already feel its effect. The pain and throbbing and muscle twitching were gone, but she felt feather-brained.

"It will wear off," Peetah said. "But it will help you."

/end flashback

Therefore nothing was more welcome than a day spent without having to worry whether she would manage to finish reading that chapter on time or whether she would able to do all the things the Dark Lord wanted her to do in the training hall. She had a brave lunch, which was obviously her reward for her hard work.

And in the evening, as Tyananna was having a walk, Peetah's husband approached her and told her that the Lord wanted to see her in the dining room. She changed her clothes and made her way to the dining room, feeling like a new person. She found, to her surprise, that the Dark Lord was already there, leaning over something.

"Sit, Tyananna," she heard the Dark Lord say.

She did so, noting that there was a flagon with wine on the table, which had obviously been meant for her. She looked up to see what the Dark Lord was doing. He was leaning over something that resembled a musical instrument. Tyananna grinned broadly, unable to help herself.

"The Dark Lord always keeps his promises, Tyananna," he said, straightening up and looking at her. "I promised I would play my instrument for you, if you behaved and obeyed me. You have done everything I told you without a word. And I shall keep to my promise."

He seated himself down behind the instrument and glanced over it, adjusting a few strings. Tyananna realised that the strings resembled those of a lute, but there were so many of them, dozens and dozens of them, of different thickness and of different colour. Crystals were hanging from the top of the massive frame gilded with gold, which were shaped as cones, cubes or spheres. At the bottom of the golden frame there were thin, almost parchment-thin, silver discs. Tyananna had never seen any musical instrument of such complexity and beauty; it almost seemed like a masterpiece of art, rather than something that could produce music.

The Dark Lord flexed his fingers and Tyananna fixed her glance on his hands. For a moment they hovered over the strings and Tyananna felt him summon the Dark side. And now she realised that he would not be playing the instrument with his hands – but with the Dark side. He caressed the air with his long fingers, and the instrument let out a strange sound, which surprised her. He began playing on the strings, but there were so many of them that it sounded as though a dozen string instruments were playing at the same time. The crystals, when he caressed them with the Dark side, sounded like a fine silver dust falling, whispering, whereas the silver discs emitted a gentle tinkling sound. The strings, however, began to play a mournful, but at the same time beautiful, tune which carried with ease through the dining room and made Tyananna's every hair stand on end. The Dark Lord's music was like a long story, and it neither had a beginning, nor end; there were no repeating themes or intermezzos, as it was the case with music in general. Instead, it was a flowing story, broken into sentences which melted with one another, as though the music itself was taking slow breaths.

The thousand fingers of the Dark side played the instrument according to the Dark Lord's commands, whose eyes were closed and who was completely immersed into his task. He was telling her a story about death, about rebirth, about beauty in Darkness, and the story completely bewitched her. The strings spoke to her and the crystals whispered into her ears. The music spoke about the end of life and sadness, knowing that one had to leave the work unfinished. And the will and loyalty to one's work, to the Dark side, were so carefully woven in it, that Tyananna did not even notice.

When the music stopped and the last tone died away, echoing the dining room, it took her by surprise. She felt strangely empty... The Dark Lord lifted his hands from the instrument and opened his eyes, looking straight at her, who had tears in her eyes.

"I see I have managed to touch you," he said quietly, leaning aback. "And you thought the Sith did not appreciate music."

"I cannot blame you for ignorance, nor I can blame any Jedi for not knowing what the Sith are like. The Sith Code has always been passed from master to apprentice and it has always been hidden well. Why this secrecy? As a token of respect to the Dark side; as a shield against all those who would misunderstand and misuse the power and wisdom lurking in the pages. You believed that Darkness was something horrible and that the Sith were merely traumatised individuals who wanted to unleash their hatred and jealousy upon the world? Now you know what it takes to command the Dark side, but you know as well that a Sith must be a master of himself. I have shown you the beauty of Darkness – and you have felt it in my music."

"What was the music about, my Master?" she asked quietly, wiping her face with her sleeve.

"You tell me, my apprentice," the Dark Lord said with a twinkle in his eye. "What have you seen while you listened at it?"

"Death," she said breathlessly. "It was about a dream of greatness; and about sorrow upon realising that one is going to die. The will and devotion were thwarted by flesh and blood... Death was beautiful; and yet it was horrible."

"You will find that Lady Tarralyanna said something similar when she set her eyes on the Land of the Dark side for the first time," the Dark Lord said with a quiet laugh, pouring himself some wine. "Lord Tammutyen said that it was beautiful. Lady Tarralyanna said it was beautiful and terrible at the same time."

"I think I now understand what she wanted to say," Tyananna quietly said, more to herself. She thought back about the Land of Gnath, trying to remember its exploding volcanoes, endless russet valleys and hills, unnatural darkness at night and the dancing veils of heat which hovered over the ground. Then she thought it was horrible; but now, she could see it as a mysterious, magical place.

"Has the Sith music been written down, Master?" shed asked while he was busy with his pipe. "I should love to try to play it on my lute."

"You mean, music played _by_ the Sith," the Dark Lord corrected her. "Some of it has been written down. My Master also played his own instrument, but he never wrote anything down. However, the Sith Lord of the First Age wrote down some of his pieces."

"Sith Lord of the First Age?" she whispered, startled. "And the writings have been preserved until today? Who was he, my Master?"

"The Sith keep to tradition and always pass their knowledge, writings and work on their apprentices," the Dark Lord said, pulling at his pipe. "Do you know why? Because only a few have what it takes to be a Sith. Those few are talented individuals who do not care for the petty worldly lives. We live to serve the Dark side; and while we are here, on Horukaan, we try to do as much as we can, to learn more, to create more, and to pass it on our students. In that way the Doctrine of the Dark side gets enriched and the student does not need to waste his time by exploring what his Master already learned. He assimilates the knowledge, accepting it and picks up where his Master left his work."

"The Dark Lord of the First Age?" the Dark Lord went on thoughtfully with his pipe stuck between his teeth. "He did not partake in any war; he did not make himself famous on Horukaan. Instead, he was famous in the Dark side and his greatness existed and lived there and it still does. He turned to philosophy and arts, to the study of medicine and psychology. Combat was not his area of expertise, though in his time he could have been invincible. But this was not his task on Horukaan. He studied alchemy and struck its foundations; and I am using his knowledge and his theories. There are points in his theories which are exceptionally daring, you will find, and the use of poisons to cure diseases is quite common in his doctrine. He recommended the use of poisons for healing, believing that the body will begin fighting on its own, if threatened, presuming that sickness is an illusion, an expression of boredom or the feeling of being overwhelmed. He believed that the body could cure itself and that it only needed a bit of encouragement."

"The Montaar poison, Master?" Tyananna asked, wide-eyed. She never believed that such a Sith ever existed. A healer?

"Yes," the Dark Lord nodded. "His invention. In his time, the Montaar serpent lived in all parts of the world. But it was so often hunted and killed that it got extinct. Lady Tarralyanna – a rather enthusiastic snake-hunter, you must have noted – knows where she can find them and how. On one occasion she faced a Montaar serpent while she was still a child – and survived it. Perhaps that explains her ability to sense where snakes and serpents might be hiding."

"That would explain the tattoo of the serpent on her belly," Tyananna said.

"Correct," the Dark Lord said with an amused chuckle. "I sensed something could endanger her – but I let her go nevertheless. It is what the humans will never understand. One needs death, injury, pain and suffering – in order to live, in order to learn important lessons, which could not have been learned in any other way."

"But what if something happened to her, Master?" Tyananna asked.

"That would have meant she was not meant to be a servant of the Dark side after all," the Dark Lord said simply. "If one is not strong enough to face the lessons of the Dark side and survive them, then one has not been meant to become a powerful Sith."

oooooooooooooooooooo

It would be impossible to put into words what Tyananna was going through at the time and to describe what was happening within her during that one month she spent alone with the Dark Lord, being mercilessly taught and pushed onward. In sickness and pain, in weakness and fear, she began to grow like a tree, from the ashes of illusion. She kept a diary in order to be able to read it some day and wonder at it, to wonder at the change which was taking place within her.

"_Although the Dark Lord is merciless when it comes to training and although his punishments are severe, I realise now that he is doing it for the sake of my advancement. I am surprised with what I can do now and how well he has trained by body and mind. They are transforming... into something amazing._

_And yet there are times I am afraid of what I might become. I know that he has war plans and that he intends to take me with him. _

_How empty my past life now feels! How useless my thoughts were, before I have met him, before he accepted me as his apprentice. I used to think about irrelevant and silly things... Which in truth really do not matter._

_He said I could leave; that I was free to leave the Sith Temple and go wherever I pleased. And I confess I have thought about it, more times than once. But I would never be able to live with the Jedi again, as horrible as it sounds. Something changed within me, something snapped, and I have learned new things, I have seen new things, and the Darkness is slowly becoming my home. I might leave; but the thought of never seeing him again, never seeing those cruel lips smile at me or those dark eyes look at me, is more than just unbearable. I cannot leave; I have made myself a prisoner in the Sith Temple. Do I truly belong here? Is the Dark side truly the master I should serve to the end of my mortal life and beyond? Is it worth it, all this blood, all this sweat? I might try to answer this question, but it matters very little. It is either this, becoming a Sith and serving the Dark side or dying in solitude, lost and desperate, a person without name and purpose. _

_I feel the Dark side is calling to me... it wants me here. This unbelievable power wants me as its servant and I cannot leave and I cannot forget the feeling the Dark side offers me. Such power... Such immeasurable, ancient power... _

_And perhaps I can answer my own question, the question that I have been asking myself for weeks... Why am I doing this? Because it is who I truly am."_

_Tyananna's Diary, Month 21 of the year 2839 , Pah'Tyal Day_

In her chambers, when she was not training, Tyananna was living like a princess. Luxury surrounded her wherever she went. When Tyananna asked for a mirror, Peetah's husband brought a large, oval mirror with a golden frame and put it where Tyananna said she wanted to have it.

Peetah always asked her when she wanted to wash her hair, so that she could do it. And Tyananna never declined her offer, because she loved the feeling of her fingers massaging her scalp. The Malaskian was fascinated with how fast her hair was growing and Tyananna was certain she could thank her husband's serum for that. The Malaskians' hair grew only until they reached adulthood, after what it stopped growing and thus Tyananna could understand Peetah's fascination with her hair. It also seemed that the Sith associated long hair with power in the Dark side and that they let it grow for that reason. She saw several statues of the Sith of old in the Temple and she noted that they wore braids which were dangling around their knees and it reminded her of the way the Dark Lord wore his shining, ebony black hair.

She often wondered what the Dark Lord really was, if he was not human. He certainly did not look human and yet... Would it happen to her somewhere along the Dark path? Was it some kind of a logical consequence of one's work with the Dark side? She could feel that she was changing; but she had no idea in what. As far as she could see, she was the first human Sith. Or the only one around here anyway. If the Dark Lord came to his throne thirty years ago, then he could not be younger than forty, she reasoned. And yet… he neither looked youthful, in a sense that he resembled a boy, nor did he look old. He merely looked inhuman. There was something otherworldly and inhuman in the flawlessness of his complexion and in the paleness of his skin. She knew for a fact that no Albinian has ever been born with black hair and yet a Droddian half-blood would have had dark skin. He did not seem to have any facial hair, as far as she could see. His chin was always perfectly smooth, like that of a woman. Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen could not help her with the unravelling of this mystery, because they themselves had no idea what their Master was.

oooooooooooooooooo

Little before Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen returned from the Kingdom of Quentaa, Tyananna was told that she could go to the town, if she wanted to. It was the twelfth day of the week, and another week passed in hard work and sweat. She was actually hoping her Master might play music for her again, but it so seemed that he was very busy.

"You may take your horse – Pamdah knows which one is yours – and ride to the town. Or, you can go on foot," the Dark Lord told her. "Either way, you may stroll around as you wish – but I want you to be back in time for meditation. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master," Tyananna said excitedly.

She always hoped she could explore the town and she wondered what sort of people lived in Gotan, as she had never been to Gotan while she was a Jedi in training.

After she braided her hair, Peetah pulled out a leather pouch from her pocket and gave it to her.

"He sent you this, child," she said.

"What is it?" Tyananna asked, opening the pouch and peering inside. She gasped. Gold coins! So much gold she had never seen in her life. She looked up with a confused expression on her face.

"What is this for?" she asked in a small voice.

"Your pocket-money, I expect," she said. "Should you desire to buy yourself something."

"I am allowed to do that?" Tyananna asked, turning to her. "To buy myself what?"

"Oh, surely not food, child," Peetah said, chuckling. She knew of course that Tyananna used to be very fond of candy. But candy was not on Tyananna's mind this time. "Trinkets, clothes, jewellery, something that catches your fancy."

"With this," Tyananna said, giving the pouch a shake so that the gold coins within it rattled, "I could buy myself a whole town and still have something left."

"Well, use it wisely," Peetah said, draping a cloak over her shoulders. "The fact that he gave you no instructions on how to use your pocket-money says that he trusts you."

"Master mentioned a horse," Tyananna remembered, adjusting her sleeves. "And he said I should ask your husband about it."

"Oh, yes, Pamdah keeps it in the stables. He takes good care of it," Peetah said, nodding. "Beautiful horse. The Lord had it brought here some weeks ago. It is well trained, though it is young."

"Brought here?" echoed Tyananna. "Does it resemble Lady Tarralyanna's horse?"

"Oh, yes," Peetah said. "They come from the same horse-breeder, a trustee of the Lord. I am uncertain where he lives… but he knows his job well, he does. Now you only have to give it a name!"

"I should like to walk, though," Tyananna said with determination, despite of how much the sheer idea of riding such a stout, beautiful animal appealed to her. "I can explore if I go on foot."

"Of course," Peetah said, nodding with understanding. "Are you ready? Shall we go?"

Tyananna stared at her, not knowing what to think. She wanted to come with her? What for?

"You... do not want me to accompany you?" asked the Malaskian uncertainly.

"Whatever for?" Tyananna asked.

"To carry things for you, to make certain that you do not lack anything," Peetah said.

"I am not a child," Tyananna laughed, but as she noted that she might have hurt Peetah's feelings, she hastened to add: "I do not want people to stare at me and they are going to stare at me if I show up with you. Only royalty and noblemen have servants."

"They are going to stare at you, either way," Peetah said sadly. "Well, miss Tyananna, enjoy your day out. I hope you see many new and interesting things."

With the money pouch in her pocket and hood over her face, Tyananna followed the underground passage to the Court, as this was a faster way to the town, the Dark Lord told her. A year ago, she was a Jedi on her way to become a master. No one ever looked twice at her; she was of average appearance and of average beauty; she was someone who simply blended in and at the time Tyananna did not mind. But now... It felt as though the Darkness within her demanded recognition; that the people around her honoured her for what she did and what she had become.

As she walked through the corridors of the Court, she noted in alarm that people _were_ staring at her. Was something giving her away? What? As she walked past two noblemen who had been heatedly discussing something until she showed up, they bowed to her. Was it the fact she was wearing a hood over her head? Lady Tarralyanna would say that she was being 'conspicuously inconspicuous'.

She walked over to the large fountain in the atrium, sat on a bench right under it and stared at it in amazement. Her Master's Court, she thought, glancing over the atrium. All this belongs to him, she thought, smiling. This change of environment had a strange effect on Tyananna. She was fascinated with everything. It almost seemed that she had forgotten how the society functioned and as though she needed to re-learn some things.

She spotted a familiar face coming through an archway and she leaned forward to see better. Possibly very sensitive to the sight of anything that was dressed completely in black and was wearing a hood, the person paused and turned to her. It was the Chancellor, who was not beside himself with joy at seeing Tyananna, but he knew he had to greet her.

"Morning," he said earnestly, sinking into a bow before her. "Can I be of service to you in any way, honourable?"

Tyananna checked, surprised with the way he addressed her.

"No, thank you, Chancellor," Tyananna said with dignity. "But," she added as the Chancellor was about to leave, "if you are not busy, perhaps you could tell me something about the Court and about my Master's Kingdom."

The Chancellor straightened up, unable to hide his expression of surprise. Of course, he could not decline.

"Certainly, honourable," he said. It became obvious to Tyananna that he believed this was a fitting title for her and to tell the truth, she had no idea whether it was. But it filled her with a strange sense of self-importance which she was trying to get rid of. All this flattery and luxury were not helping; and Tyananna wondered whether her Master intended her not to become accustomed to it, but immune. However, it did feel like recognition for her work and for what she had achieved.

"Perhaps you would like to sit in the gazebo and have some tea?" the Chancellor asked as she got to her feet and pulled the hood over her face once again. "The Lord often sits there."

She nodded and smiled at him, following him toward the same gazebo where the Dark Lord and his two apprentices often used to sit.

His glance nervously wandered over her but when he caught himself staring, he looked away. Hie did not know whether this new Sith might find his staring offensive. Since the Lord introduced her to his trustees, the whole Court talked of nothing else. What happened to her? Has she been coerced into serving the Dark Lord by some strange, horrible technique of torture the Dark Lord invented (after all, that is what he was famous for)? Or has she broken down once she saw her friend being killed by the Sith and was now pretending to serve the Dark Lord while still yearning for revenge? Everything was possible, they thought.

Tyananna smiled warmly at him, perceiving his nervousness, what helped her deal with her own. She had never been good at talking to people and she always felt she had the uncanny ability to say all the wrong things. But now, this man here was prepared to listen to her no matter what she said, and her sheer presence was obviously making him nervous. At long last, Tyananna felt she was different; she felt she stood out and this gave her a strange feeling of satisfaction.

"Where do you live, Ferrighan?" she asked softly, as it was obvious he would not speak first, because he thought it might be considered as inappropriate.

"Oh, my wife and I live up on the northern hill," he said, confused with the question. "Nice view from the garden, too. The children can play outside all day long… have been, ever since the beginning of the Fiery Season."

"And the good general Korrugen?" she asked quietly, bringing the cup with tea to her lips.

"He is my neighbour," the Chancellor said. "He has no wife, though. But he has at least dozen dogs."

"Looks like the type which does not marry," she remarked. "And the dogs keep him good company, instead of a wife. For some, perhaps this is a better choice."

Silence fell on both of them and Tyananna decided not to rack her brains about what she was going to say and whether it might interest him or not, as she once used to do. She decided to speak about things she was thinking about and about things she wanted to know.

"Did you know that I had no idea my Master was the ruler of Gotan, not until a few weeks ago?" she asked, smiling broadly. The look of surprise on the Chancellor's face offered her a sense of satisfaction. "He never told me; and I never asked. To me, he was simply the Dark Lord and that was that. But, compared to what he can do and what he does in the Dark side, I suppose that ruling a kingdom does not pose much of a challenge for him."

She is so very different than the two Sith, Ferrighan thought, watching her across the table. She could however not hide the one characteristic he observed in all Sith. Wherever she looked, whatever she was doing, it seemed that she never lost her way. She always knew what she wanted and she always took it. The Sith were always pretty straightforward, something that often filled him with a feeling of unease.

"I wonder how this change affected you?" she asked, looking straight at him, who bowed his glance, watching her fingers play with the lemon slices – the way she squeezed them made him wince. "He told me that you had not always known who he really was. I wonder whether something changed about the way you see him?"

Ferrighan cleared his throat, feeling like a cornered rabbit. Surely she did not expect him to tell her how he really felt? But then again, he thought, the Sith could read minds. She can easily tell whether I am lying or not. He decided to proceed cautiously.

"We have all been loyal to him ever since he was enthroned," he said, aware of the Sith's eyes watching him. "And we came to know him as a just, strict ruler, who kept to himself and enjoyed solitude. We have learned only years later that this solitude was not what we thought it was – for while we thought he wanted to be alone, he was actually training his apprentices in his mansion."

"In the Temple, you mean," Tyananna said. "Yes, but he has always been who he is. He has been the Dark Lord of the Sith for so many years. On his part nothing changed – he was still the same person. But I wonder whether this revelation forced you to look at him differently, to have a different opinion on him?"

"My opinion matters little, if at all," Ferrighan said, struggling to get out of this mess. "But our attitude toward him certainly changed. At last we had an explanation for some things which puzzled us."

"How did it make you feel, then, when he revealed his secret to you?" Tyananna persisted, watching him over the rim of her cup, amused with the way he tried to wriggle out of answering her question directly.

"At first I could not believe it," Ferrighan said slowly, weighing his every word and trying to avoid looking at her in the eye. "For the Sith were a legend until then, a fear-inspiring legend. And we found that this legend was embodied in our ruler, in our King. Truthfully? The truth made me faint with fear and I do not think this feeling ever wore off."

Tyananna laughed to this and leaned aback, studying the man's features and glancing over his embroidered overcoat.

"Do you know, that is exactly how I felt when I found out that the Sith actually existed," she said, sounding amused. The Chancellor looked up, trying to figure out where she was going with this – was it merely a friendly confession or did this sentence have a purpose, to make him say something he would never dare to say aloud?

"Lady Tarralyanna was the first Sith I ever saw," she said. "At first I could not move, so shocked I was. But one glance at her told me that she could not be anything else. Her hair, her eyes, her body – all of those tattoos all over it… If there was someone who looked inhuman and strange enough to be a Sith, then it was her. Of course, I did not get the chance to look at Lord Tammutyen better, for he went after my companion."

She bowed her glance, thinking about Waak. She no longer felt sorry for him, nor did she resent Lord Tammutyen for killing him. Those were his orders and she knew perfectly well that he merely executed them. But now she felt happy for Waak, feeling that he was on a far better place and that he was free. The smile glowing on her face was genuine.

"But when I saw my Master for the first time," she went on, after a pause during which she reminisced, "I knew at once he was a Sith Lord. He felt like one, he looked like one, and I never doubted this. The Dark side was all around him, it lived in him, and I do not think I have ever met a Jedi master for whom I could say that the Force was embodied in him. That is why I was wondering how come you have never seen it, felt it, sensed it."

"The non-Force sensitive people can hardly be expected to feel something like that," Ferrighan said ruefully, startled with this confession. It truly sounded that she admired and respected the Dark Lord. "We always knew he was an exceedingly powerful man, an excellent warrior and that he was very wise; a man able to see both sides of a coin and objectify all, bringing everything into question. He has always been composed and he always knew what to do. But it took some time before we learned what the Dark side was and how we could perceive it being used. Sometimes we feel cold all of a sudden; sometimes we feel uncomfortable for no apparent reason; sometimes it makes our hair stand on end; sometimes we shiver as though a spirit passed through us. But all of this is not reliable, of course. A human being is a very complex mechanism and we cannot be sure what we are perceiving."

Tyananna lifted an eyebrow, surprised with this statement, for she disagreed. She learned to disagree, for she knew otherwise and could do otherwise, as her Master taught her. The nuances in the Dark side, the careful dosage of rage – all that was controlled and carefully observed by her mind. She felt sad, when she looked upon the man sitting before her – sad, for she recognised Larynthe in him. She remembered that Lady Tarralyanna once told her that she pitied her, for all her uncontrolled emotionality and for her slavery to the blood and flesh, to her desires and to her fears.

The Chancellor ached with the desire to ask her what was it that made her turn to the Dark side, but he thought better of it. If this peculiar Sith desires to tell him, by answering his thoughts, then she would tell him. He liked her on the whole – she was open, sincere, and not ashamed of her views and her thoughts. She was not hiding anything. She sincerely admired the Dark Lord and she allowed it to show. She was not ashamed of the new life she found here or of her betrayal of the Jedi Order. But the question of why was haunting him.


	35. Chapter 34 - Part Two

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

dmear2: thanks for the review! :)

This chapter marks the end of Part Two. The smell of war is in the air... ˄˄ Things are slowly heating up.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXXIV – Scourge of Darkness

Stars began to show on the vault of violet as the Dark Lord opened the door leading out on the terrace, his black cloak dragging behind him, closely followed by Tyananna. He sat down on a large wickerwork chair and put his hands on the arms of the chair, sighing. He pointed a finger at a vacant chair and Tyananna sat down. Peetah appeared, carrying a silver tray with wine and placed it on the table before them, bowing deeply and disappearing as soon as the Dark Lord waved a hand in her direction. The Master and the apprentice sat quiet for some time, watching the colours change and stars getting brighter and brighter.

"Can you feel it, my apprentice?" he asked quietly after they spent some time watching the stars and drinking wine. "The air of anticipation? The roar from the deep? The Dark side waking and trembling with the desire to rule? The time shall come when it will scream – and it will not be long before it does."

Tyananna looked toward the hills and mountains in the distance, which were now mostly green as the snow melted. Gotan certainly looked different in the Fiery Season, she thought.

"I have never sensed the coming of the Fifth Season like this," Tyananna said sincerely. "The very air seems vibrant with the urge to transform."

"Yes, all is trembling in anticipation," the Dark Lord said, smiling. "But the age of the Dark side is coming, my apprentice. The world is getting ready for it."

"What will you do, my Master?" Tyananna asked, looking up. "Do you intend to rally an army?"

"An army, yes," the Dark Lord echoed seriously. "But I shall not repeat the same mistake which had been made in the Second Age. I shall work in secret and keep all of my cards, including the presence of Sith, well hidden until the very last minute. Then it will be too late. And the world will have to kneel before us. We shall use their own so-called virtues against them. They like to consider their emotions as their strength and to look through the eyes of their passions; they like to live in ignorance and in the colourful illusion about the world they created for themselves. Let them!"

He gave a cruel laugh which made Tyananna swallow and feel grateful that she was not his enemy, though she easily could have been.

"We shall conquer it and transform Horukaan into the empire of the Dark side," the Dark Lord said with satisfaction.

"Why?" Tyananna asked suddenly. The Dark Lord looked at her with his eyebrows high in the air. "Why does the Dark side want to rule Horukaan?"

The Dark Lord looked toward the endless horizon, which was growing darker and darker, and nodded, as though acknowledging her question. The sky above them was ominously glittering with stars and little spirals which were distant galaxies.

"It is simply a question of eras, of the changing of the aeons," he said seriously. "The light has been ruling the world long enough. Note how since the end of the Great War of the Second Age everything has changed. In the beginning the people of Horukaan have been united in their purpose and were rejoicing in the fall of the Dark Armies. But with time the rule of light has lead to conflict among the people. Countries which once used to be a whole fell apart as people tore them apart from the inside. It is the human emotional and passion-driven nature that is tearing the world apart and the Age of light is about to end. A change is needed; strict laws which are to obeyed; firm rule of those who are driven by nothing else except for the wish to serve Darkness. And the Dark side shall give that to the world."

"The Sith function like that," Tyananna said after a pause. "But the people, my Master? They would not be able to understand it. For them strict laws would mean cruelty; they would see devotion to the Dark side as an expression of bitterness and inability to lead a 'normal' life; our determination and power of will they would see as rage and hatred. And for seemingly doing what is held for impossible, they would label us as fiends and something that needs to be destroyed. They would never be able to understand."

"No," the Dark Lord said, turning to look at her, an amused smile curling his lips. "And you have learned a lot, my apprentice. I am very pleased with your work."

Tyananna grinned broadly and looked down on her feet. His praise meant a world to her.

"A common man would not be able to understand how a servant of the Dark side functions and he would never be able to understand the power and complexity of the Dark side," the Dark Lord said seriously. "Because they merely see it as the other side of the coin; they believe they can understand the light and they think that Darkness is merely its opposite. It is so much more. You have undoubtedly found a hint or two on the issue in the Sith Code. I suggest you read the memoirs of the Dark Lord of the First Age. There the Dark Lord writes not just once, that Darkness was the 'first of the first'."

"The Doctrine of light is very simple in its essence," he went on. "Even though they cannot feel or use the light side, the people of Horukaan can understand the underlying principles. Hence their belief in Nary-wath, a deity which created the world and watches over it. People need something to believe in, something greater than they are, which is all-powerful. They need a deity to pray to and to blame for their failures. Naturally a Jedi does not really believe in such simple concepts, but he too tries to keep to certain rules and regulations, and tries to push himself in a certain direction, believing that if he accepted the qualities and characteristics of his Jedi predecessors, that he would be a 'better Jedi'. He tries to fit himself into a mould, instead of breaking free and exploring himself and the world around him. A Sith, on the other hand, makes his own rules. Observe, for instance, that every Sith has a different weapon of choice; and every Jedi has the same one. Each person is different; and we can only accept that we are a part of the Dark order and that we are serving the Dark side. However, the direction in which we shall develop is entirely unique. Because we are all unique."

"The light is slowly quenching," he said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "And the world is getting ready for the Era of the Dark side. Try to feel this change while you meditate, my apprentice. And write down what you have seen."

Tyananna nodded, listening hard. She was going to find those memoirs of the Dark Lord of the First Age and read them, no matter how archaic the language was. And to think that his memoirs have been preserved for thousands of years!

"Now, I daresay," the Dark Lord said, "we shall go down to the courtyard and have a little walk. I believe that Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen are about to arrive and I should want to be there when they do. They have been away for a long time and they have done their work exceptionally well. I want to greet them when they come."

He got to his feet, leaving off billowing clouds of smoke behind him as he walked with his pipe stuck between his teeth. He must have sensed them coming, Tyananna thought as she jumped to her feet and followed him back into the Temple. When Tyananna was with the Dark Lord, she was too busy listening to what he was saying to ever check her surroundings with the Dark side.

She strolled with her Master around the Temple, walking a little behind him and staring at his back. He skimmed with his glance over the silent, evergreen trees, as though there was something he might find there. Tyananna enjoyed this quiet walk immensely; and while she followed the Dark Lord around, she thought about what he last said.

As the Dark Lord stopped and turned around, pointing his finger in the direction of the gate without a word, Tyananna paused, waiting for him to pass her by and then followed him back to the iron gate, eagerly breathing in the spicy scent of the night. While she was a Jedi, Tyananna used to believe that daytime was the most beautiful time of the day. But now... Now she could feel the wordless, silent knowledge, lurking in every shadow. Night was a relief after a very long, hard day. And though she once believed that the world went to sleep after the fall of Luth, now she could feel life waking and she could hear its nocturne, see the dance of the animals which now dared to crawl out of their burrows and hiding places, going hunting and exploring. And for Tyananna of the Sith the fragrant night, quiet and mysterious, could not be compared to the garish light of day.

Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen rode into the courtyard, one after the other, and Tyananna cold feel their joy upon finally arriving home. They jumped off their horses and handed them to the waiting Malaskians. Deadly pale and with shadows under their eyes, covered in filth and with their clothes torn, the two Sith approached the Dark Lord and Tyananna who stood right behind him. Their weapons clanked as their walked and got to their knees before the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord watched them with a smile hovering on his lips. He did not greet them – but he did not need to. They felt him welcome them home.

"My apprentices," he said softly. "I have seen it all. And I am very pleased with your work. The Dark side shall be your staff now."

He lifted his hands and upturned his palms. Hood drawn over her face, Tyananna watched him from the shadows, her eyes glinting, bating her breath in anticipation. The Dark side rushed to the Dark Lord like a thunderous storm and he turned his palms downwards, bringing his hands to the heads of the two Sith who were still kneeling before him. Tyananna distinctly heard Lady Tarralyanna sigh with relief and noted she closed her eyes. They merely drank in the power which was emanating from the Dark Lord, waiting for him to speak to them once he lifted his hands and shook his wrists.

"Tomorrow, you may have a free day," the Dark Lord said quietly, nodding. "And I shall see you at lunch."

With that he turned and soundlessly disappeared in the Temple. The two Sith got to their feet, now feeling much better and looked around themselves.

Tyananna came out of the shadows, bringing down her hood down. At the sight of her, Lady Tarralyanna smiled broadly, approached her and threw her arms around her, pressing her hard against her bony chest. Lady Tarralyanna felt even thinner than she was before and Tyananna could feel the hilt of her sword pressing against her thigh.

"You have advanced," she said, glancing over Tyananna with satisfaction. "It has been a very long journey, Tyananna."

Her sapphire eyes were now sparkling with the Dark side. Tyananna had so many questions and there was so much she wanted to tell her, but she decided to accompany the two to their chambers and leave them to sleep.

As she turned to allow Lady Tarralyanna pass her by, who gave her a friendly tap on her shoulder and passed with her gloved hand over her red hair, Lord Tammutyen grabbed Tyananna and pulled her to himself. Tyananna grinned and leaned her head against his chest. He felt cold, so very cold, and she could feel his muscles ticking and trembling.

"We have felt your powers growing," he said into her ear, his cold lips making her shiver. "And we are very glad you have finally made peace with what you are and that you follow the Dark path sincerely."

He, too, gave her a tap on her shoulder, almost making her stumble. He laughed, walked into the Temple and threw an arm around Tyananna's shoulders, drawing her up to him and tugging her along with him. For a few moments, Tyananna caught herself grinning stupidly in the semi-darkness of the Temple, allowing herself to be tugged along by the monumental Sith, who began describing to her how they gave the Head of Protection a decent scare. She laughed along with him, enjoying his story.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo 

Across the ocean, in the Droddian Kingdom on the Third Continent, sat a few people in a little chamber, surrounded with wine, their heads veiled with thick smoke, under the light of torches burning on heavy oil. The warriors of Gangar were speaking for a very long time, it seemed, and the sturdy Droddian sitting before them with his pipe in his hand was listening hard, his eyes twinkling. He was drinking in every word that was spoken. The crackling of the torches was almost too loud for everyone's ears – such strain was in the air.

The Droddian whom they were speaking to was rather tall for a Droddian, and his black, matted hair was cut short for one, too. He was wearing a rich overcoat made of fox fur. As it was Droddian belief that by wearing furs of different animals one could assume their characteristics, it was obvious that the Droddian in question admired this particular animal. Several thick, golden chains hung from his neck and he was also wearing a massive ring with a large orange precious stone embedded in it (and this particular precious stone allegedly brought courage to the one who wore it), to indicate and emphasise his wealth and his position. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal his dark skin covered in matted hairs, whereas his small, cunning eyes were fixed upon the orators. This was Mongrap, the schemer and treasure hunter, who prided himself with a cunning mind and the number of times he evaded King Dankaar's grip. For cunning Droddians were very rare; and thus one more cunning than the rest of them certainly deserved this flattering position of the schemer in charge.

At last the orators fell silent and drank from their goblets to moisten their throats. Mongrap was quiet for some time and was staring at his goblet, thinking intently. One of his men wanted to say something, but he bared his teeth at him angrily and the man fell silent. Mongrap's very appearance was enough to make someone shut up. He smoked for a while while the warriors of Gangar exchanged a few glances between themselves, trying to fathom out what his intentions were, whether they could expect an attack. Mongrap had put aside his mace at the beginning of the conversation along with everyone else, and was now sitting unarmed. But that of course did not mean much and the warriors of Gangar sat with every muscle on the strain, ready to strike.

"What you tell me is too fantastic to believe," he said at last, speaking in a Droddian dialect which was spoken in Dankaar's Kingdom. But the warriors of Gangar could understand him well enough. Mongrap was pulling on his pipe and staring at the floor, lost in thought. "But, I cannot see why you would have travelled over such a distance just to tell me a lie."

"This is what we are going to do," he went on, now turning back to the warriors of Gangar, who listened hard. "I shall accept this alliance. Yes, I shall accept it!"

His last sentence was directed at his men who stirred, as though wanting to say something against it, but who now kept their silence.

"If there is such a person, such as the Dark Lord of the Sith," he went on in a low voice, "then he can repeat the Droddian massacre which took place during the Second Age. If what the warriors of Gangar tell us he is offering is true, then we shall choose wisely. And gain a lot in the process."

"I must confess," he went on, giving a snide little smile, grinding the tip of his pipe, "that I cannot see how King Dankaar is going to get overthrown. I am not a man yearning to on pretty elevated chairs or to wear silly crowns. A cunning warrior does not need a crown in order to make everyone see he is powerful. But I shall not object, if such a thing does come along."

He laughed and the warriors of Gangar laughed along with him. Only the laughs of Mongrap's men were a little subdued. They believed that their leader was being a little rash and that he did not understand the seriousness of the situation.

"So," he went on, thumping a heavy fist against the table. "Let us sign this treaty. And you tell the Dark Lord this. I shall hold him to his word. I shall stand by him. But I want the King Dankaar for myself. I should very much like to make a faithful dog out of him – I always needed someone to carry my wine and to fan me during the Fiery Season."

He laughed again and the warriors of Gangar exchanged glances. Obviously he did not understand the depth of the situation but they now realised that his reputation was quite justified. What Mongrap really enjoyed was making fools out of people and playing pranks on the King's men.

"We shall tell that to our Lord," said one, nodding. "But no such thing has been mentioned in the treaty. If you are keen on it, I suggest you compose a letter for him and give it to us. His main objective in sending us here was to ascertain that he had your loyalty, that you would support his works in the Kingdom, and that you would stand by him in war, once you are enthroned."

"Works in the Kingdom?" Mongrap echoed. "What do you mean?"

"The Dark Lord of the Sith has many powers you cannot imagine," said one of the warriors of Gangar in a low, threatening voice. "And my advice to you is never to underestimate the power of the Dark side."

Mongrap stared at him, his grin fading. He quickly cracked a smile, wanting to show that he was not afraid. Despite of the fact that other warriors could feel one's fear, it was Droddian tradition not to show it and to try to conceal it with false grins or seriousness. Mongrap drummed his fingers against the rough wooden table.

"Show me the treaty, brave warriors of Gangar," he said, nodding with his large head. "I shall sign it."

oooooooooooooooooo

Miles and miles away, across the ocean, in the renowned land of Montague on the First Continent, three emissaries of the Kingdom of Quentaa sat with their hoods falling low over their faces in a small cottage on the rim of a forest, overlooking vast meadows occupied by varieties of horses. Large, strong horses with flaming red coats galloped wildly across the whole length of the fence and collided with each other. Middle-sized horses with brown coats trotted lightly around, flaring up their pink nostrils at the sight of the red horses' havoc wreaking and at the sound of their loud whinnies which echoed the valley. Small, timid-looking horses with beige coats and mane so long one could barely see their eyes were swishing idly with their tails and rubbing their snouts against each other. They were the treasure and the legacy of the Kingdom of Montague, which was renowned for its horses and their breeding. The vast Kingdom was mostly covered in valleys and pastures. In the Fiery Season, the endless green valleys were dotted with a myriad of different species of flowers, making the whole Kingdom look like a colourful carnival.

In the depths of the cabin a filthy pair of hands unrolled a scroll on a rough wooden table and pushed it across the table toward a tall, thin Albinian with hazel-brown hair falling down his chest and round, bright eyes. He had a long soft quiver made out of the skin of a pony resting on his back and his bow was protruding from it. The people of Montague were mostly Albinians, but those who were native to the land, meaning, pureblood, were tall and thin, like the one standing before the table now. For generations have his ancestors bred horses and lived in the land of Montague and his appearance clearly showed it. Until then he had been pacing the cottage with a very serious expression, his usually smiling lips now a thin, stern line. He looked over to the three hooded people, pushed himself off the mantelpiece against which he had been leaning, and approached them in a few soundless paces. His hand hovered slightly above the yellow parchment as he gripped the quill made out of the feather of a swan from the hand of one of his hooded guests. But he dipped it in ink and signed the document in a few quick movements, laying the quill aside and remaining to stare at the document as though wondering whether he missed something. His companions approached him from behind wearing grave expressions. The man who just signed the document nodded at them, and, their hands trembling, they bent over the parchment and signed it as well.

"I hope this is enough," the Albinian horse-breeder said, staring at the hooded people.

"It is quite enough," said one of the emissaries from Quentaa, giving him a smile. He could sympathise with him, but he knew he should not say or do anything to comfort him or ease his troubled thoughts.

"Should… he require horses, I can procure a couple of hundred," the Albinian horse-breeder said, his lip trembling. It was obvious that he had done this out of necessity, like Mongrap, but also that he had been promised something by the Dark Lord in return for his good services and loyalty. "But if he needs more, it would take some time."

"Thank you. And in the future, we shall certainly be very careful about travelling here," general Korrugen's voice from under the hood said. "And always come during the night."

"Agreed," the horse-breeder said, nodding. The two stood facing each other as though measuring each other up. But when the general stretched out his hand , the horse-breeder took it and shook it, nodding at him.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

On the slope of tall, dark hill, there was a gaping dark hole which lead into a mine where stale air was something ordinary. And deep within the mine another group of people of sat bending over the very same document. The warriors of Gangar were explaining the whole situation to a half-naked Droddian, who sat and listened. His black, matted hair was covered in grime and his yellow teeth were showing through his half-open mouth which he forgot to close when he started listening to what the warriors of Gangar had to say. He, however, had no companions standing behind him. He was Ruthok, the ruler of the Mangora mines, some of which he was forced to give away to the Jedi, for their excavation of the Jalá ore, which they needed for their swords.

Anger and hatred showed in every line of his dark face as he thought back about the Jedi snooping around his mines and showing up when one expected them the least. He signed the treaty straight away. He promised to back up the Dark Lord with any means possible; and in return the Dark Lord promised him revenge against the Jedi, help to reclaim all of the mines in Mangora and to execute all those who would stand against him and try to back up the Jedi. Ruthok simply could not see what use the Jedi were to him or to Horukaan – they stole and they claimed things in the name of their precious Force, and he, Ruthok, for one had never seen their alleged combat skills and was beginning to believe they were merely a myth. He could not see their Force – therefore he did not believe it existed. His opinion on them was that they were a bunch of baboons, who somehow got hold of some strange powers and enjoyed making the Droddians of Mangora look like fools.

The theft of his mines and the mines of his people was the last straw. However, he allowed it because all of the surrounding provinces stood by the Jedi and when he tried to get his mines back and even King Dankaar sent his emissaries to Mangora, advising him to let the mines go and withdraw. Ruthok never concealed his hatred for the Jedi and because of it he almost lost his position as the ruler of Mangora more than once. But this, he felt, watching the emissaries rolling up the document, would bring a new era to Mangora. This person, whoever he was, promised him everything he ever dreamt of; and with him by his side (if such an powerful person existed at all), Ruthok would be more powerful than ever and he would be able to force all those accursed Jedi out of his domain. Mangora would reclaim its dignity and pride.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

On the shores of the First Continent, in the Empire of Larria, in a high-ceilinged room in one of their major ports, the last stop before the endless ocean and the realm of the Caelians, sat a group of people bending over the very same document. The people of Larria were half Malaskians, half Albinians, but above all they were all seamen since birth. A long bridge which belonged to their domain led from the First Continent to the island which constituted the Empire of Larria and not many were allowed across it. However, the emissaries from the Kingdom of Quentaa were allowed to pass easily enough, for the Empress of Larria was very fond of the King of Quentaa. By her permission and her explicit order, the riders from Quentaa passed through the whole of her Empire, riding through town after town, greeted well and welcomed wherever they went, before they arrived to the main port of call, the seat of the Empire of Larria and there met with the Empress.

The Empress of Larria was a Caelian half-blood and was thus unnaturally tall and slender. Her blue eyes, as she was still rather young, little over two hundred years old, were fixed upon the emissaries she let into her palace. Her wide white sleeves made out of a breezy material remained for a second hovering in mid-air as she reached out for her cup with tea and the deep blue jewels embedded in her crown, which were native to Larria, glinted as she turned her beautiful head toward her honoured guests. Her long fingers twitched nervously as she laid down her cup and lifted her glance. Her expression was suddenly very grave and her light blue eyes were agleam with nervousness she was trying to hide.

"And the King of Quentaa accepted this treaty?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, Your Majesty," said one, nodding. "He… he is acquainted with the Lord, you see."

"He is acquainted with him?" the Empress echoed, her high-pitched voice getting even higher. She slightly turned to her advisers, who stood a little aback with their hands crossed before them. They were dressed in deep blue robes, with scarves wrapped around their heads and falling down to the ground as an indication they were under the oath of celibacy and in lifelong service to the Empress.

"Where did he meet him? How?"

"We cannot tell you that, Your Majesty," the same Albinian said, shaking his head. The eyes of the Empress flashed with fury. "You must understand. We are merely emissaries, carriers of the message. We have been allowed to disclose certain details to you only when you sign the treaty."

The Empress let out a furious snort and her usually smooth forehead now wrinkled a little. She waved to her advisers, who approached her with their heads bowed, not looking at her guests, and began speaking to her in their native language, staring at the floor. The Empress listened carefully and then turned her head back toward the emissaries.

"Read the document to me," she said imperiously, leaning aback.

"I shall sign no such thing," she said when they were done, her crown now lolling aside. "You must be mad! To give my ships away?"

"Think about it, Your Majesty," said one. "The Dark Lord's power shall crush the world and he can turn your empire into ash and dirt with his army, if you defy him."

"Caelia shall stand up against him!" she barked, getting to her feet, shaking with fury. Even as she sat she towered easily over them, but now that she was standing, her height seemed to give her even more authority than she already possessed. "The Jedi Order shall stand against him! What can he do? One Sith against hundreds of Jedi!"

"Do you remember the Dark Lord of the Second Age, You Majesty?" asked one of the emissaries, cutting in. "The one who turned your Empire – then nothing more than a province – into ash? How many people born in Larria have survived the massacre? Two hundred? Three hundred? How many women and children have been slaughtered, how many ships burnt down? It was hundreds of years ago, but I know Larria has not forgotten about the Larrian blood which was spilled. That Dark Lord was my Lord's teacher and he taught him in secret for many decades, until he deemed him ready to face the world. Now he is here and he plans world dominion. War is inevitable, Your Majesty – and it will come to the Empire of Larria as well."

The Empress went white and her long, graceful fingers nervously twiddled with her saucer, her grape-shaped earrings trembling along with her.

"What can he offer me?" she asked finally in a low, hollow voice. "Larria keeps to itself; and we do not trade or do business with either Caelia, Dankaar, or the Albinians from the Swamp Land. Larria is flourishing under my rule. The Dark Lord cannot offer me anything I would want."

"Is that your final answer?" asked the emissary.

"Yes," said the Empress coldly, her lip trembling. Then she waved a hand, and the guests were escorted out. She sat for a long time at that table, lost in thought.

A few floors below, the Empress' shipbuilder and renowned seaman was signing the treaty and was just shaking hands with the emissaries as the royal guards were sent after him. In no more than half an hour it occurred to the Empress who might betray her and her men were dispatched all across the Empire, to bring her everyone who held positions of power in her Empire for interrogation. He was ready for this and he expected something of the sort. The shipbuilder turned like a hunted rabbit, hearing running steps on the stairs, and the emissaries of Quentaa nodded at him.

"Bring her down," said one of the emissaries, turning to go, "and the Dark Lord shall make you an emperor."

"You have my word," he answered as he turned to welcome the guards.

The following moment, the emissaries were back on horseback and were riding through the port. They galloped wildly across a long quay, where they came aboard a ship which set sail as soon as they were on board.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

And across the continent, as the emissaries were now riding back to their kingdoms and sending out messengers, who rode out like shadows into the night, sat Tyananna of the Sith at her table, scribbling. The candle burning in a golden stand was dripping wax all over the polished surface of the table, but she did not seem neither to notice, nor to care. She was writing in her diary, fascinated with what she learned in the past few weeks and was using this last bit of free time before the evening gong to describe what happened to her and to put down all of her thoughts and conclusions on paper.

Suddenly her table quivered. She thought that she merely kicked it without noticing and shifted her feet, before one glance at her inkwell told her otherwise – it was quivering as well and the black liquid within it was vibrating. She put down her quill, furrowing her brow. She went up to the window and drew back the curtains. The sky was already dark, as Luth descended some time ago, but there were no stars on the vast vault of indigo. A crash reached her ears, and she turned, now slightly alarmed, to note that a bowl fell out of her cupboard and smashed into thousand pieces. Something flashed across the sky and Tyananna froze and stared, paralysed with horror. The sky was coming alive. A thin cone descended from the heavens, like a giant black finger, which swirled and swirled, steadily growing before her very eyes. Only now she became aware of a deep tremor, which seemed to be coming from the very bowels of the world and all she had in her chambers was now vibrating along with it. When the true meaning of all of this flashed across her weary mind, Tyananna ran for the door, her heart hammering in her throat.

She snatched her M'Hoor and her cloak in her passing and ran barefoot down the corridor of the Temple. As she ran, the roaring sound grew steadily louder and louder, until all she could hear was infernal, beastly noise, as though a thousand demons were released into the world and now scattered across it. She ran toward Lady Tarralyanna's bedroom and almost collided with her as she darted out like an arrow, pulling her dressing gown over her nightdress and holding the Saragon in her one hand. They seemed to think along the same lines. Everything could disappear overnight, except for their weapons and themselves. The Sith Code stated, Tyananna remembered, that a Sith was to die with his weapon in hand, honouring the Dark side and his own purpose in that way. Thus he would pass into the Dark side and abide there with all honours he deserved. Without a word, Lady Tarralyanna tugged her sister by the sleeve, and the two ran down the corridor to see Lord Tammutyen sprinting also barefoot toward them with his Ptah in his hand, wearing only wide black trousers which were obviously a part of his nightclothes.

The three Sith arrived breathless at the entrance hall and there skidded to a halt. The very sky seemed to be ripping apart. The dark finger Tyananna saw from her window evolved into a powerful twirl, which spun with growing strength and it seemed to be gathering even more with every second of its existence. The ground was now shaking under their feet and the whole world seemed to be falling apart. The wind howled in their ears and their cloaks whipped around them, as they stood as firmly as they could, the heaviest, that being Tammutyen, grabbing onto a pillar and pressing the two against his chest. Streaks of lighting flashed angrily across the dark sky, illuminating the kingdom and echoing the mountains long after they disappeared. There was a stir behind them and Lady Tarralyanna felt a hand on her shoulder.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" the Dark Lord yelled, his dark eyes gleaming.

He placed his one hand on Tammutyen's shoulder, and twined his other hand around Tyananna's neck, his palm resting on Tarralyanna. The three Sith looked at him, not knowing what to think. They learned to trust him with their souls and if he believed that this twirl from hell was beautiful, then it had to be so. They were not afraid for their own lives – expect for perhaps Tyananna. However, the way the Dark Lord embraced all three of his apprentices told them a lot. If they were to die, they would die together, the Master and his apprentices.

"Look at it," he yelled on, now laughing, but still not letting go of them.

They have never heard him laugh like that. Certainly they could see the power of the Dark side in this terror and, as they sensed the Dark Lord was beside himself with joy, they looked back toward the tornado, seeing it in an entirely different light.

"The hand of the Mighty Dark side! It descends and it shows its true power!" yelled the Dark Lord triumphantly.

And now they began to understand. This was the work of the Dark side and he felt it, whereas they got blinded by panic and terror before such awesome might and destructiveness. For even in their darkest dreams, in their darkest hours of weakness, they have never seen this terrible, destructive face of the master they all served, because of their Oaths. This face of the Dark side was reserved for its foes only. Perhaps they could now understand why the people of Horukaan were so afraid of it. _"To the cowardly, to the disobedient and the treacherous, the Dark side shall show its other face and reap lives without mercy; it shall turn its enemy's land to ash out of which it has grown,_" Tyananna remembered a line from the Sith Code. It certainly looked that way.

Streaks of lightning reflected in the Dark Lord's eyes as he followed their dance across the sky which was being ripped apart and he laughed again as the twirl, the finger of the Dark side, as Tyananna began mentally calling it, began to move. Like a giant celestial scythe, it moved forward, and the ground groaned and screamed under it. Dust, soil, leaves, branches and water rose around it as it advanced, cutting into the ground and trampling over everything that stood in its way.

"My apprentices!"yelled the Dark Lord, watching it and grinning broadly. "Have you ever seen such power with your eyes? The whole of the Horukaan shall know it, shall see it, and they shall know the power of the Dark side! Rejoice! For it is a great day indeed!"

Tyananna dared to press harder against him, whereas Lady Tarralyanna caught his hand which was still resting on her shoulder, looking as though she wanted never to have to let go. Lord Tammutyen merely gripped the Dark Lord's side, still holding onto his two sisters.

The tornado advanced slowly, spreading destruction as it went. The growling was too terrible to listen to and it sounded like a living thing, which was being inflicted great pain and which was enduring it, groaning and whining, screaming in horror and begging for mercy. But as it was with the Dark side itself, that mercy never came. The flashes of thunder did not subside; quite on the contrary, they grew more frequent and more ferocious as the tornado ploughed on. At one point, an especially powerful streak of thunder flashed across the sky, accompanied by an ear-splitting, ground-shaking explosion. Leaves, dust and wood rained upon the world, like a glorious firework of death. The four Sith skidded along the marble floor that constituted the top stair of the entrance to the Temple, as a strong earthquake shook Horukaan. The night was awakened, contrary to all natural laws, and for one moment the night turned into day and assumed a new name. It could no longer be called a night, for the world was burning and screaming under the heavy fist of the Dark side.

"COME, O DARKNESS, AND SHOW YOUR POWER!" yelled the Dark Lord in a powerful voice. His braid whipped around his head like a scourge as he laughed. "DELVE IN THE DARK SIDE, MY APPRENTICES! AND WITNESS THE POWER IT IS UNLEASHING UPON THE WORLD!"

The three immediately obeyed. Tyananna might not have had the presence of mind to do it in such an apocalyptic moment, but she felt being pulled along by Tarralyanna and Tammutyen. At last, she felt a powerful hook, which was the Dark Lord, reaching out to her, dragging her into the cradle of the Dark side, and she opened her Force eyes to look at the sky. The tornado was a spinning, screaming rod of Darkness, lavishing the world of Horukaan with silver sparks and cutting like a giant knife through everything. It ravaged the land as though it was the last judge and the only eligible executioner, who was now delivering his verdict to Horukaan in an extremely painful way.

"Heart of Rage!" Tyananna heard Lady Tarralyanna yell. "It is beautiful!"

"Mighty Darkness!" Tyananna gasped, unable to help herself.

The Dark Lord laughed, still immersed in the Dark side, gloating as they have never seen him gloat before. This was a triumph of the Dark side, its answer to the Dark Lord's work and that of his apprentices, and the answer was terrible and beautiful at the same time, they felt. It was a face of the Dark side they have never seen before.

The tornado disappeared in the east and the flashes of thunder died away, fading, leaving the land to weep over what was lost and to lick its wounds. The Dark Lord's eyes were still twinkling fanatically. When the noise subsided well enough for them to be able to talk, he embraced them even harder and looked round at all three of them, smiling broadly. Triumph was written all over his face. The Dark Lord rarely showed any emotions except for rage. But his triumph and his joy were genuine and the three stared at him, grinning as well.

"Come, my apprentices!" he shouted, turning around and entering the Temple. "This is a time for celebration! It is a great day indeed, a great day for the Dark side and its servants! Let us celebrate the power of Darkness!"


	36. Chapter 35 - Part Three

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

This is the beginning of Part Three... enjoy reading :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

PARS III

CAP. XXXV – The Black Tower

As night fell, the gate of the royal city of the Kingdom of Quentaa opened to allow three riders to pass. They rode in a tight-knit group, disappearing into the night like bolts of lightning. Messengers riding the best horses Chief Growthak's stables could offer streaked past the geysers and headed toward the border with Gotan, keeping the ice-capped mountains to their left in sight, to be certain they were going in the right direction.

They rode hard for hours, not looking back, knowing their orders and mercilessly pushing their horses through the darkness. They were heading for the first Gangarian village where they would change horses, which was still six hours of ride away. It was on the outskirts of the village that they heard the roar issuing from the depths of the world. They rode on, knowing that they had to deliver their news to Gotan, or die trying – but as more and more time passed, it became apparent that perhaps it was going to be so.

The ground shook and their horses jumped, rearing on their hind legs and letting out ear-splitting whinnies which were nothing compared to the noise being emitted by the bowels of the mother Horukaan herself. She seemed to be whining, screaming in terror, ripping apart at her very core, as though her heart was on fire. The messengers have never heard anything like it and they stood paralysed, looking around themselves and drawing their maces, trying to steady the horses despite of the fact the ground beneath them was moving. Thunders erupted before their eyes as they glanced over the night sky, and far away, in the distance, they saw something emerge from the darkness and begin to spread terror wherever it went. Their horses finally managed to throw them off and they rolled across the shaking ground, still holding the reins, to at least keep their horses. The messengers were certain that this was exactly how the end of the world was supposed to look like.

A few hours before dawn they arrived to the village on foot, because their horses managed to run away, and since they wanted to remain alive and to be able to deliver their messages, they had to let them go.

"Most of the horses ran away, Maak Nook," said an elderly blacksmith. "Have you seen…?"

"We have," the first messenger snapped, showing him his girdle bearing the seal of the Chief's Seniors. The blacksmith bowed to him. "Now give us what you have, for we must ride on."

The sun of Cyrron rose with sadness in its eyes, shedding light upon the world and upon the damage made during the night. However, it so seemed that the destructive tornado left the northern parts of the world in peace and Gangar looked the same as ever. The messengers came to the same conclusion when they crossed the border and rode through the Kingdom of Gotan.

The messengers arrived at the gate of the royal city of Gotan in the evening of the twelfth day and the gate was opened for them as soon as they showed their seals. However, when they arrived at the Court, they found that the Lord of Gotan was not there and they were instructed to wait for him. This was an unexpected treat for the messengers, because they were exhausted and they welcomed the chance to relax a little and regain their strength while waiting for the Lord of Gotan. The servants of the Lord ordered a good meal to be prepared for the noble warriors of Gangar and they sat to talk to them.

"Our horses ran off," said one Droddian, who could speak Albinian reasonably well.

In fact, this was how the Chief chose his messengers, apart from all other qualities. In Gangar, and generally among Droddians, an able warrior was never merely a warrior. He was an excellent rider and a daring, brave man in all situations, ready to show his courage and what he was capable of at any time. And in Gangar, to be a messenger was a special honour, for such a man had the trust of the Chief and his respect. Such a man could not be an ordinary warrior.

"We saw fire and thunder and it looked as though the very sword of Rennokh descended from the skies," he went on.

Rennokh was an ancient Droddian deity, referred to as the celestial warrior, the judge of courage and great deeds of a deceased. According to their belief, Rennokh weighed the souls of the deceased to see whether he followed the customs and whether he strived toward being a brave, able warrior and then decided whether to allow him to pass into the other world, which was a land of everlasting bliss.

"His sword spat fire and spread destruction. He is very displeased about something – a cowardly deed must have enraged him; dishonour must have disgusted him, so that he decided to punish those who have enraged him."

It has always been attempted to put religious debates aside, and while the warriors of Gangar spoke about their heavenly warrior with a sword in hand, the Albinians of Gotan spoke about Far-Meh-La, the queen of storm and ruler of mountains, the mother of snow, who spat avalanche on those who tried to destroy her kingdom. According to their belief, she defended her people, the people of Gotan, by snowing hard upon the unworthy, clouding their vision and freezing their limbs with ice, so that they would perish in the depths of her kingdom. She was often shown as a woman with hair made of icicles, wearing a long cloak made of the fur of the legendary bear which lived in the mountain ranges. She carried a staff which was made of ice, with which she she would command the storm and the wind and send them to bury the unworthy in the snow, where their bones would remain preserved in ice, a reminder of what could happen if one crossed her.

"It descended from the clouds," the Chancellor said. When he was a child, he got caught in a storm in the mountains with his family and his little brother got buried in the snow. He grew up fearing the snow queen more than any one. "And though it did not snow, she apparently found another way to punish those who acted against her."

Debates were led and names of gods and goddesses were put aside, for no one could deny that something inexplicable happened, something the people of Horukaan have never seen before. For once the Droddians and the Albinians sat together, ate together and drank, discussing the sword which descended from the skies and the Dark Lord's presence was not necessary to force them to do it.

"Was Korrugen not with you?" the Chancellor asked.

"No," answered one of the messengers from Gangar, drinking his wine. "He was with the emissaries from Quentaa. Or so I believe."

"Has… your Lord spoken about the celestial sword yet?" the other Gangarian messenger asked carefully.

"No," the Chancellor answered a little thoughtfully, putting down his goblet and leaning aback. "The following morning he rode out and he has not come back since then."

"We thought he might know why great Rennokh was so angry with the mortals," the Droddian said. "He knows the way of the sword and he is a warrior of Darkness; he would know why it struck the world."

"Perhaps," said a voice from the doorway.

The ruler of Gotan was standing there and he was obviously heavily armed. Whatever he had been doing, it must have been very important.

Everyone jumped to their feet, bowing their heads. The ruler of Gotan smirked and entered the room. Everyone was aware that he was closely followed by a few people and it was not very hard to guess that those people were his apprentices.

"The power of the Dark side has been unleashed," the Dark Lord said curtly, sweeping away his travelling cloak and pulling down his hood to reveal his pale face. He pointed a finger at the chairs surrounding his and his apprentices sat down without a word. "For the first time since aeons, it spoke again," the Dark Lord said as he sat down himself.

The warriors of Gangar have never heard anything more frightening and now all they could think about was how Gangar was spared of destruction and concluded that the reason for this was their alliance with the Dark Lord. Suddenly they were painfully aware of the importance of this and felt grateful to their Chief who was so persistent in accepting the alliance. The Chancellor and the others merely stared at their Lord with unhidden horror. Gotan was spared, was it not, they thought? Was this… his doing? Is this what he can do? How great is his power?

"You bring me news, warriors of Gangar," the Dark Lord said softly, glancing over them. "Let me hear them."

ooooooooooooooooo

After the meeting the three Sith went to have a walk through the Court gardens. Lord Tammutyen was smoking in silence and all three of them were discussing the latest development of matters, all the while glancing over the night sky.

A gleaming, blue-white star appeared on the sky of Horukaan after the apocalyptic earthquake and tornado ravaged the world. It was smaller than the sun of Luth, but still far bigger and brighter than the other stars.

"Has it just appeared there or has it been there before, only having grown in size and brightness?" Tyananna asked Lady Tarralyanna. "You know a lot about astrology."

"It is impossible to say," Lady Tarralyanna said seriously. "It is not one of the stars I know by name or by their position. However, we cannot exclude the possibility that it might have been a smaller star which was not visible until now, as it has grown."

"Has Master given it a name?" Tyananna asked eagerly.

"Not yet," Lord Tammutyen said.

"Let us play a naming game," Lady Tarralyanna said, still staring at the star. "I will call it… The Avenger. Tammutyen?"

"Hm," Lord Tammutyen mumbled, pulling at his cigar and narrowing his eyes. "I will call it… Doom."

Lady Tarralyanna let out an amused chuckle and the both of them turned to Tyananna, who shook her head. She had no idea what to say.

"Come, come," Lady Tarralyanna said. "It is just a game. Have you not grown weary of all of those human emotions called shame and embarrassment?"

"All right," Tyananna said, looking up again.

It was beautiful, she thought. And to think that it actually showed up right after the tornado ravaged the continent!

"Awakening," she said quietly, looking at the star. The two Sith exchanged glances and then smiled.

"It is a wonderful name," Lady Tarralyanna said. She was clearly impressed.

ooooooooooooooooooo

The following day, after a very eventful training before which Tyananna felt slightly nervous, as this was her first chance to show Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen what she learned while they were away, Lady Tarralyanna suggested they should go to the water garden.

"Oh, I do hope this helps," Lady Tarralyanna said, taking a seat in the garden and putting her legs on the rim of the fountain, closing her eyes. "All those streams and lakes and rivers, and they have not considered making a water garden with hot water. Tyananna? Oh, come out, for the Love of Darkness, stop with your shame. Tammutyen is not here and he is not coming."

Tyananna sighed and put away her towel, jumping into the water as soon as she was close enough. Lady Tarralyanna glanced over her with approval.

"I love your tattoo," she said, staring at it. "Was it painful?" She did not seem to be surprised to see that Tyananna had one.

"Not as much as I thought it would be," Tyananna answered, vaguely remembering the feeling. It all seemed so very long ago.

"I can see your body is going back to its natural shape," Lady Tarralyanna went on, nodding at her.

"Meaning?" Tyananna asked, glancing over herself.

"Meaning, that is how your body is supposed to look like when it is well trained," Lady Tarralyanna said.

Tyananna glanced over herself. When she wrote in her diary that her body was transforming, she was not exaggerating. Her figure drastically changed. The period of being thin was obviously over and Tyananna found, as the Dark Lord was now introducing new exercises and new trainings which replaced the old ones, that she was sprouting muscle out of thin air.

"When I was younger, I wanted to look like Tammutyen," Lady Tarralyanna said unexpectedly. "But with time I accepted the fact that no matter what I do I will end up tall and thin."

She sighed and shook her head.

"Well in most cases we inherit the physical constitution from our parents," Tyananna said. "My parents are not tall and so I ended up short as well. But what about your parents? From whom have you inherited your physical constitution, I wonder?"

Lady Tarralyanna glanced over her flat stomach and looked at Tyananna's navel. It was so strange to see a person who did not have a navel, Tyananna thought. It was only then Tyananna noticed that Tarralyanna did not have a single hair on her body except those which grew on her head. She winced. _That_ is not normal, she thought.

"I have asked myself that question millions of times," Lady Tarralyanna said. "And I am afraid I do not have an answer. I only know what Master told me."

"Do you think," Tyananna said carefully, "that there are people out there, living on other planets? Do you think that… perhaps you are one of them?"

"That, Tyananna," Lady Tarralyanna said with a secretive smile, "seems to be the best possible explanation and I myself arrived to that conclusion several years ago. But I have earned myself a rather romantic name. The Daughter of the Stars?"

"Ooh, so that is what it means," Tyananna said, nodding and connecting Sith words in her mind. "So, the second word means 'daughter'. It is so rarely used that I have never come across it."

"It turns out that we know very little Sith," Lady Tarralyanna said. "All we know is what we use every day, what we have read in books. But Master speaks it like his mother tongue, having spent years with his Master, who originally taught him Sith. His vocabulary is much richer than ours and he still corrects us. I wonder… what does _your _name mean?"

"Certainly I am not a daughter of anyone who matters," Tyananna muttered.

"Parents are irrelevant," Tarralyanna said, waving off. "What matters is our work here, our knowledge and our skills. Tammutyen has no idea who his parents are. Once he was very curious about them but I do not think they crossed his mind during the last ten years. He was too busy, see."

The door opened and Tyananna reached out quickly for her towel, throwing it over herself. Lord Tammutyen's head appeared in the doorway.

"I am not looking," he said, having his eyes closed and Lady Tarralyanna laughed at his courtesy, whereas Tyananna stopped trying to pull her small towel over all of the important parts of her body.

"Master sent me," he said. "He says you should get dressed as soon as you are done here. He is taking us somewhere after lunch."

"On horseback?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, who was still sore due to all that riding.

"Yes," Tammutyen answered, still having his eyes closed. "He also said you should take something warm to sleep in with you."

"All right," Lady Tarralyanna said. "Shall we eat together, then?"

"If you can hear my thoughts," answered the grumpy voice of Lord Tammutyen, who was still not as good at this skill as Lady Tarralyanna was, "then why do you ask?"

"Because of Tyananna," Tarralyanna said simply, ignoring the jealousy in his voice. "We shall see you later then."

Lord Tammutyen's head disappeared with a growl and the door snapped close behind him. Tyananna looked at Lady Tarralyanna, who was picking at one of her tattoos which was ruined by a nasty scar.

"Those details will be hard to reproduce," she muttered, annoyed.

Tyananna stared at her scar.

"Battle?" she asked.

"Some stupid guard who fancied he could throw knives like Tammutyen," Lady Tarralyanna answered angrily. "I killed him of course, but not before he wounded me."

"How many have you killed in Quentaa?" Tyananna asked, as though this never occurred to her.

"Who knows?" Tarralyanna asked rhetorically, her expression darkening. "Tammutyen kept the count. He likes to do that sort of a thing, you see. I was only glad to be done with it, to go through the whole list. I more enjoyed setting up plots and having the King resolve them, while Tammutyen kept himself busy with hunting."

"But I should say around fifty," Lady Tarralyanna said, furrowing her brow. "Enemies, that is. Traitors. I do not know about the guards, servants and all that. We had to fight our way through, of course."

"I have never killed anyone," Tyananna muttered, staring at her feet and playfully flexing her leg muscles. She never had legs like that before.

"Oh, you will get your chance," Lady Tarralyanna said, apparently thinking that Tyananna was disappointed she never had the chance to do it.

"I am not looking forward to it," Tyananna said firmly.

"Why not?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, surprised. "It is a test of your abilities, of what you have learned, an application of all that in battle. Do you not want to know how far you have gotten?"

"I am sure there are better ways to test that," Tyananna answered moodily. It so seemed that after a long time of agreeing on everything they reached the point of disagreement.

"Of course there are and battle is by no means the ultimate test for your skills," Lady Tarralyanna said. "Because not many can be a match for us. And remembering how you used to fight, you will forgive me when I say that I doubt many Jedi could stand against us either."

Tyananna grimaced, remembering her duel with her. Yes; she would have done so many things differently now. She was certain that she was ten times physically stronger than she used to be and as for her combat skills, they have grown immensely as well. But the Dark side was a perfect tool for battle and duelling using the Dark side and the light side could, in Tyananna's opinion, not be compared. Whereas it seemed that to use the Dark side for healing was challenging to say the least. That was why the Sith mostly relied on potions and other remedies rather than on healing with the Force.

"But it is a very necessary part of your training," Lady Tarralyanna went on. "Because it can give you an idea of what you can do and what you cannot do. Sure, a Sith can be powerful and yet never kill anyone. But Master does not want you to be such a Sith. Just look at what you have been doing every day. He has been forging you into a warrior. And to take a life using the skills you have acquired as his apprentice would give him acknowledgement as a teacher."

"I have not looked at it that way," Tyananna said, staring at her in surprise.

Lady Tarralyanna smiled at her. She omitted to tell Tyananna just how much power she could get out of killing someone, because she thought Tyananna did not want to hear about it just yet.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Tyananna went to the stables earlier than required to see her new horse and spent half an hour admiring it. It was a tall, sturdy, black stallion, which stared at her from the other side of the stall, its dark eyes twinkling like jewels while it silently followed her with its glance as she walked around. Tyananna brought a few carrots with her to get the horse to like her and quiet stallion ate them, after what it approached the bars of the stall, eyeing her suspiciously, as though wondering what she wanted in exchange for the carrots.

"You know, the way you look at me reminds me of Lord Tammutyen," Tyananna said, frowning. "But I like you nonetheless."

The stallion stood quite still as she started gently petting it, allowing her to do this. Tyananna was surprised when it pushed her hand aside and thrust the snout into her fist, closing its eyes. Apparently the horse recognised Tyananna as its future rider or at least someone it liked.

Mounting the tall stallion proved to be a little difficult for Tyananna, who in the end gave it up and jumped on the horse's back. She was certain that the horse would get a panic attack if she did, but to her surprise, the stallion stood quite still. When they rode down to the courtyard, they noted that the Dark Lord was already sitting in the saddle and was waiting for them.

"Come, my apprentices," he said, nodding at them. He seemed to be very pleased about something. "We shall ride across Gotan and I shall show you what the finger of the Dark side did several nights before."

He spurred his horse through the gate and the three followed. Tyananna was forced to ride at the rear, as Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna were constantly pushing around or throwing things at each other, with Tyananna watching them. The Dark Lord did not seem to mind their playing, although Tyananna was certain he could hear them. For a while Tyananna felt a little lonely, sort of singled out, but at the same time she knew they have been friends and lovers since they were children and that it would be quite impossible to expect them to suddenly include a newcomer into their little games and pranks, which were getting more and more cruel as they rode on.

Tyananna focused on her horse instead and watched him trot effortlessly. Lady Tarralyanna told her that it might be a good idea to play with the Dark side from time to time to let the horse know who its rider was. When she asked her whether the horses they all rode were trained to be ridden by the Sith only, Lady Tarralyanna answered that this particular breed of horses showed natural inclination to the Dark side, that they could feel it and that they liked the feeling. Normally this breed of horses was used solely as draught horses and they were not attempted to be ridden by many, as they were notorious for their whimsical nature and proneness to anger.

"I shall call you Nan'Tha," Tyananna whispered in Sith into the horse' ear. She grew to like the quiet, dark-eyed horse, which obediently trotted behind all others. Not once has it declined to obey her. Once or twice Tyananna immersed herself shortly in the Dark side and watched the reaction of the horse. The stallion would sniff and sniff, turning its pretty head toward her and swishing its tail, as though urging her to continue with whatever she was doing, because it liked it. Nan'Tha meant 'silent wind' in Sith, and this was how Tyananna felt about her new pet.

They rode past the many pools of water which were a consequence of the snow melting during the Fiery season. The mountain peaks, however, still glowed with ice, with blinding whiteness which was troubling Tyananna's eyes and soon she pulled the hood over her head and eyes. Her feet barely reached half of her horse's belly, so tall it was, unlike Lady Tarralyanna's, whose long legs hung down the horse's sides.

She looked over at Lord Tammutyen, whose Ptah was resting on his back, his black cloak billowing behind him, his hood turned toward Tarralyanna and his mouth stretched into a very evil grin. Lady Tarralyanna tossed a rock at him, which he easily caught in mid-air and then threw it back at her from behind his back. Tarralyanna laughed as she ducked by lowering herself quickly down the side of her horse and then heaving herself back into the saddle. Amazed, Tyananna wondered when the Dark Lord would teach her to ride like this.

The fresh air was doing wonders for her lungs and she felt slightly dizzy, probably due to the altitude. When they rode to Gotan from the Land of Gnath, they just had to cross the border and ride to the capital town. Tyananna did not have the chance to see the land, except for the northern mountains, which were always the same – covered in snow, high and menacing. But Gotan as she saw it now, was something remarkable.

Due to the fact that snow and ice melted, there were far more lakes and streams in Gotan than usual. There were deep, small ones, looking like gigantic tears, as blue as Lady Tarralyanna's eyes; shallow ones, laced with reed and moss; and then there were bits of land where the soil was so moist that the horses could barely make it through the mud.

The land of Gotan was mostly covered in evergreen trees and shrubbery and the yellow grass, which used to be buried under the snow, was now trying to catch a bit of sunlight. As they rode on, Tyananna could not see any damage which would implicate that the tornado passed that way. Animal life seemed to be waking as well. She saw a few lizards along the way, which lazily gazed at the four Sith and a strange bird of prey which streaked past them so fast Tyananna had no chance to actually see what it looked like.

They rode for perhaps seven hours, after what the Dark Lord finally stopped in a thicket overlooking a beautiful, deep lake covered with a fine film of ice, glittering in the sunlight like thousands of jewels. Tyananna was a little reluctant when she noted that the Sith merely unsaddled their horses and let them go, but she let hers go as well. The horses knew each other from the stable and she hoped that her Nan'Tha would follow the other three when called.

As she and Lady Tarralyanna were busy with lighting a fire, she noticed that Lord Tammutyen was not there. The Dark Lord was sitting not far away from them and was smoking his pipe.

"Oh, he is probably out hunting," Lady Tarralyanna said in an undertone. "He never misses a chance for that."

Indeed very soon they heard a splash coming from the direction of the lake and Tyananna quickly looked at the Dark Lord, who was still smoking, but whose hood now turned toward the lake, an amused smile hovering on his thin lips. She went closer to have a look. Lord Tammutyen was swimming half-naked in the lake and it so seemed that she smashed his way through the ice. The following moment his head disappeared. When he dived out again, spitting out water, his eyes glittering with excitement, he was holding something in his hand. Soon he dragged something on shore what looked like a dead reptile.

"He managed to do it again," Lady Tarralyanna laughed. "He loves reptile meat. But he does not get it very often, as no one seems to be able to catch any reptiles around the Temple. But he also enjoys hunting, as well as eating reptiles."

His hair dripping with icy water, Lord Tammutyen, bare from waist up, dragged the reptile to the fire and there dropped it, glancing over it with satisfaction. Drinking her hot tea, Tyananna wordlessly watched as the broad-shouldered Sith now sat beside the fire to dry his hair, grinning at the both of them and glancing every now and then over his prize. They drank their tea and when the Dark Lord sat down beside them, Tyananna poured a cup for him, which flew out of her hand and landed safely in his outstretched one.

"We have another three days of ride ahead of us," he said, taking a sip. "I believe it is at the sheer border of the Kingdom."

"What is it, my Master?" Lady Tarralyanna asked.

"Do you remember the legend of the Black Tower?" he asked quietly in return.

The three Sith nodded eagerly. Tyananna remembered something of the sort being mentioned in a history book her Master gave her to read.

The Black Tower was the first proof that the other side of the Force actually existed, she remembered what she read in the book. It was built at the end of the First Age and it was sort of a herald of a new age, or as such it was regarded by the Sith of old. It was tall enough for a person to climb for an hour; and from the top, one could see half of the continent, or so the book said. It served as a fort of the Dark side and it was invincible, as whenever someone who was not a Sith tried to approach it would be tossed instantly into the depths of the abyss surrounding the Tower. How did the Tower look like, she wondered? Was there some sort of a description? Well, it was a legend and it was not said whether it was built by a Dark Lord of the Sith or by whom; but the fear-inspiring legend that it was, the book said that no one dared to approach the Tower, whoever built it and whoever lived in it. Its location was also a little uncertain.

"The Black Tower has been rebuilt," the Dark Lord said, a corner of his mouth twitching in an effort not to grin. "And I am taking you to see it."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oo

Tooth-shaped cliffs descended down toward the sea level, overlooking a wide, deep lake. The water was dark blue and it did not seem to be moving at all, despite of the size of the lake. The Dark Lord smiled a little as he paused above it, and then began to descend toward it, leading his apprentices along with him. They rode one after one and no matter how many times Tyananna thought that she would fall off her horse, her Nan'Tha walked on, dexterously trying out rocks with his hoof before he stepped on them and not once did he stumble. Tyananna was thrilled with him.

The gleaming surface of the smooth, ominously quiet lake loomed up in sight again and Tyananna had to wonder how big this lake really was, because she could not see the other shore. She gasped as she spotted a broad, black trail which looked as though something huge descended from the skies and hit the ground, skidding across the ground and finally disappearing underwater to form a volcanic island not far away from the shore.

The island stuck out as though it was dropped there; and in the middle of this strange island, through the mist, Tyananna could see something that was cylinder-shaped and black, stretching upwards through the mist. The very sight of it made Tyananna feel faint with dread; but as she delved in the Dark side, she saw it in a different light. It was a fort, a resort, a place of safety and power, a standing proof of the power of the Dark side and there was no mistake about it.

Tyananna could not see the top. It was lost in the mist which dragged lazily and ominously around it. Like the wings of an illusion, it came close, but it could not enter the Tower; for there, she was certain, nothing like an illusion, nothing so despicable, could survive. The Tower was a symbol of the power of the Dark side and was brought into being by the very hands of the Dark side itself.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" the Dark Lord asked as he halted on the shore.

Gloomy moss laced the shore, climbing over rocks eaten off by the teeth of time, ragged and sharp, lying forgotten in their cradle of mud and waste. Even the sun seemed to shun this place.

"All that is powerful and mighty, and truly so," the Dark Lord said, turning to his apprentices in his saddle, "is intimidating. But you are servants of the Dark side – and that power is your power as well."

He led his horse forward by the rein and the three Sith followed his example. They reached the peak of the small peninsula which stretched toward the island and there let their horses go. The Dark Lord looked around and then nodded at the trees behind them.

"We must make a raft," he said curtly.

Lady Tarralyanna nodded and rummaged through her saddle bag as though she expected it. She drew a large hatchet and approached one of the trees, swinging at it without further ado. As soon as Tyananna realised she could use her own M'Hoor to do the same, she joined her.

The Black Tower, in all of its magnificence and horror, was slowly growing before their eyes as they glided across the silent surface of the lake toward it, and Tyananna, who was paddling along with everyone else, stared at it, not noticing what she was doing with her hands. A wide door gaped at them like the mouth of an infernal beast, leading inside the Tower itself. Tyananna jumped off the simplified raft they made in a spectacularly short time and landed on the slippery and smooth surface of the island. It reminded her of the Land of Gnath. As they arrived to the Tower itself, Tyananna asked herself for the thousandth time how this was possible. Who could have built such a thing?

"Not a mortal," the Dark Lord said softly, answering her thoughts. Tyananna gasped as she noted there were red Sith glyphs etched in stone above the entrance to the Tower. It almost looked as though they have been written in blood...

"_I am the lurker in shadow;_

_I am the eyes of Darkness arisen from the depths of the world;_

_I am the watcher of the world; I am the Eye which sees through lies and deceit,_

_The Eye, which never closes and never sleeps, but stands guard, sweeping the land with the glance that penetrates all._

_I am the Fort of Darkness; I am the sword rising toward the coldness of the eternal night._

_Mighty warriors of Darkness, step inside and bare your souls before me;_

_I shall tell you who you are and what I have seen in the world._

_And if you be a foe, beware!_

_You shall feel my wrath which shall send you to the cradle of filth whence you came."_

Tyananna stared at the Dark Lord, who was smiling as he read the words.

"The ancient stone which constitutes the Tower," said the Dark Lord, "issued from the very core of Horukaan. It has not been touched by the hand of a mortal yet. But I daresay it would behave exactly like the stone of the first Black Tower."

"Only a Sith can touch it, enter it, and survive," he said. His eyes were gleaming. "Lift up your hands, my apprentices, and touch it."

Without further ado he placed his hand upon the stone and breathed in deeply with his eyes closed. Lady Tarralyanna came to stand beside him and did the same. Immediately her brow furrowed and she closed her eyes. Lord Tammutyen seemed to be very surprised with what he felt by touching it. Tyananna, on the other hand, approached them tentatively and glanced over the formidable, unnaturally black stone with apprehension. She might have followed the Dark Lord and the Sith Doctrine until now, but this was her test. If she was not a Sith, she would die, and by the sound of it, her death would be everything but pleasant. No one was looking at her. She could easily get on the raft and escape. Nan'Tha was waiting for her and she could ride like the wind.

She glanced over herself. Suddenly she realised what was it that she was actually wearing, as though she spent the last many months in the body of someone else. She was dressed exactly like the three Sith standing beside her with their eyes closed and she was carrying a traditional Sith weapon on her back. She spent the last couple of months in a trance, working hard to meet the high expectations of the Dark Lord, but in this moment everything seemed painfully real.

Everything she said or promised until now, might have all been a lie. But this was a moment of truth.

She lifted her hand; and her whole life flashed before her eyes. Her knighting ceremony, Master Bakku, grinning at her from the front row. Waak, shaking her hand and congratulating her, a new friend. Her parents, seeing her off to the Jedi Temple and crying their hearts out, knowing that they would not see her for a very long time. Her search for the Jalá ore, how she made her sword and successive meditations in harsh weather while travelling. Her teacher scolding her, who would, when she failed at something, adapted the curriculum and what he expected of her according to her performance, unlike the Dark Lord, who did not give up so easily and who could sit and watch her fail hundreds of times. He demanded and he insisted and she could be half-dead by the time he got what he wanted, but he would get it. The time Waak kissed her little before they entered the land of Gnath, which was obviously a sort of goodbye. He might have not known he was about to die, but the both of them felt that something was going to happen. The first time she saw the Dark Lord. She remembered her stomach clenching and a sense of cold dread spreading through and leaving her paralysed. She knew at once he was a Sith Lord.

Her old teacher might have treated her like a failure sometimes, trying to explain things to her which were childishly simple, he used to say. But now she realised that what he had been trying to explain to her was his own idea of how something should be done, of how things have been done by the Jedi for centuries. The Dark Lord never did this. He explained to her how something should be done and then demanded of her to approach the matter in her own way. And when she would explain to him how she would do it, he pushed her hard and without mercy to do it exactly in that manner, to do it her way and to succeed. The word failure simply did not exist in his vocabulary. He never treated her like a child, nor did he ever imply that she was incompetent or stupid, despite of the fact she often felt that way about herself. He would always explain everything patiently to her; but he did not tolerate giving up or letting go. Her own efforts and inhumanly strong will to prove herself to him, not to disappoint him, made her do things for which she was certain she would never be able to do.

Tyananna clenched her teeth and placed her hand on the cold stone. Her place was here, with them, with the Dark Lord, and this was where she would stay.

"Welcome, Tyananna of the Sith," whispered a voice in her head. She checked, but she left her hand where it was, her eyes firmly shut.

"You have come a very long way," whispered the voice, making her shiver. "But you will find that you have been here all the time."

"So I am a Sith," she thought back.

"Yes, rider of Darkness, Flame of Will," said the voice. "You may enter my sacred chambers."

She slowly opened her eyes, lowering her hand by her side and staring at the black stone which was as unmovable and as silent as before. Looking aside, she noted that three pairs of eyes were staring at her.

"Sorry," she said, biting her lip. But inwardly she was beside herself with happiness. "I got a little carried away."

"That is quite all right," Lady Tarralyanna said, smiling at her as the Dark Lord let out an amused chuckle and entered the Tower, closely followed by an excited Lord Tammutyen. Tyananna looked up, trying to see the top of the Tower from there, but it was impossible. The mist was just too thick.

Feeling at peace with herself and with the world around her, she stepped inside and concluded at once that there were no stairs. Instead there was a narrow, winding path leading upward. Lady Tarralyanna started climbing without further ado and Tyananna followed her example. In the beginning she thought that this was a far better way to climb to the top of a tower than to use stairs.

However, fifteen minutes later, her head began to spin and she felt seriously ill. She continued climbing by keeping close to the wall of the Tower and trying not to look down. Half an hour later, bathing in sweat and feeling seriously disoriented, she heard the Dark Lord call to them.

"We will rest here for a moment," he said.

She saw him sit down on the rocky path leading upward and close his eyes. It so seemed that everyone felt that it was for the best to immerse themselves in the Dark side and draw strength from it. Lady Tarralyanna was sitting with her legs crossed, surrounded by the Dark side, her breathing slowly steadying. The Dark Lord was a vortex of the Dark side and before Tyananna managed to focus on herself, she felt her throat go dry at what he was doing.

The ascent went on and on and Tyananna soon gave up on her calculations and stopped trying to fathom out how high the Tower actually was, merely focusing on her climbing. They could have easily used the Dark side in some fashion to climb the Tower, but it so seemed that the Dark Lord did not want them to. And he was there as well, climbing along with them, and whenever he declined to use the Dark side to make his life easier, Tyananna learned, he had a very good reason for doing so.

Her sight blurred, Tyananna noted that Lady Tarralyanna was now using the Dark side to navigate her way and was climbing with her eyes closed, her left hand tracing the side of the wall. Lord Tammutyen was breathing deeply and painfully and to hear him breathe like that was slightly alarming. But then again, Tyananna reckoned she sounded just like him. Knees aching, her stomach tied in a tight knot and ready to empty its contents regardless of what the owner of the stomach was currently doing, Tyananna jumped as she heard the Dark Lord's voice calling to them.

"We have arrived at the top," he announced triumphantly.

She heard a scoffing noise which suggested that the Dark Lord was climbing out. Lady Tarralyanna jumped out after him, whereas Lord Tammutyen chose a bit more crude method of getting out, which meant literally crawling through the opening in the ceiling and sitting down as soon as he was out, throwing his head aback and trying to catch his breath. The Dark Lord did not seem to mind this, thought Tyananna with relief as she slithered out herself, and rolled on the floor beside Tammutyen.

"Why is it…" Tyananna whispered, still breathing deeply, "so dark? I cannot breathe."

"You are not _that_ tired, my apprentice," the Dark Lord said softly. To her surprise, she noted that he was panting as well. "The air is scarce. We have climbed so high that we are in lack of air. And why is it so dark? Come and see for yourself."

Lady Tarralyanna was now sitting, because apparently she felt dizzy after what she saw, but the Dark Lord was standing bolt upright with his hands on his back. Tyananna crawled over to him and sat on her heels, not daring to stand just yet. The Dark Lord watched her with a smile curling his cruel lips and nodded at her. Tyananna looked down – and gasped.

The mist which hovered around the Tower was not visible at all any more. In the direction in which the Dark Lord was facing, lay Horukaan. Green with blue specks; vast blue with gleaming white in the distance; and far, far ahead, she could see the sun of Luth, descending toward the dark line on the horizon. Horukaan glowed, bathing in its last rays before it said farewell to the world and descended into its celestial bed.

"That over there, that vast green, bordering with the ocean, is the Land of Montague," said the Dark Lord, pointing a finger at it. Tyananna felt Lord Tammutyen crawl up to her, put a hand on her shoulder and stare with his mouth open, still breathing as though he ran a marathon.

"Can you see the Aalyan river? It is merely a blue snake, but I daresay you can recognise it by its position. It passes through the Kingdom of Quentaa – that is the green speckled with blue. And that little dot far away, surrounded by the ocean, that is the Empire of Larria."

Tammutyen cursed in Sith and Tyananna agreed with what he was trying to say. This was incredible.

"This is the Black Tower, my apprentices," the Dark Lord said triumphantly. "We are so high we can see most of the First Continent. Do you not remember the poem you read above the entrance? That the Black Tower was the watcher of the world? The Eye which sees all and never sleeps? Well, the Black Tower does not lie."

"You cannot see Strem-Nah," the Dark Lord went on placidly, turning around and facing the other direction, with everyone now turning to look as well. "We left it beneath us. But you can see the Holy Land… Very well indeed."

Beyond the whiteness, which were in fact the northern mountain ranges which have never been explored, resting quietly under clouds which veiled their peaks, there was a gleaming, silent vastness of deep red. There was a flash every now and then which indicated volcanic eruptions, Tyananna concluded. But beyond it? The black horizon melted with the red surface of the volcanic land and was swallowed by the thick veil which glimmered on the horizon, as far as she could see. But now it seemed to Tyananna that the red vastness indeed had an end, because she could see a hint of something blue in the distance. Did Gnath actually border with the ocean? It was very hard to tell, but it certainly seemed that way. A piece of land had to border with an ocean at some point, after all.

Looking up, Tyananna saw a large star the size of a small sun, and she immediately recognised it as the star which made its appearance on the skies of Horukaan after the earthquake and tornado. But here it looked so much different.

"As you know," the Dark Lord said quietly. "Stars are actually suns, although they appear so very small to us. Ignorant people, who know nothing about astrology, call them stars. Thus our new star is a sun as well. Our third sun."

He looked round at Luth, which was now descending gracefully toward the horizon and smiled.

"Its name is Heh'Glah," he said softly. "Or, 'the Herald' in Albinian. And a long time ago it made its appearance on the Horukaan sky, during the First Age. The Sith of old have known it. It has arisen from its sleep once again, to announce the coming of the Age of Darkness."

"It is wonderful," Tyananna whispered, watching it. For her, it represented awakening; for Lady Tarralyanna, an avenger; and for Lord Tammutyen, doom. It was all of that, she realised.

She looked up and for the first time in her life, she saw the night sky, or just the sky, for it was night here all the time, as it really was. The stars did not twinkle here but rather stood unmoving as witnesses of eternity in all of their magnificence and splendour. Here, the truth had a different dimension. Here, it meant rising above the humanness and surpassing it; it meant looking with the eyes of an immortal being, a being which was so high above the planes of humanness (literally) that it could see clearly.

The bit of air which Tyananna's lungs could find to breathe in served as a reminder that there were still things within her which were human, which were mortal, and that even with the mighty hands of the Dark side one could not change the fact that one possessed a mortal body. Not even the Dark Lord, she thought, looking at him. But even though he possessed a body which had to obey certain laws, his soul found ways to make the best out of this prison of flesh and blood and change it and the world around him with the sheer application of his will and power.

Tyananna realised that becoming a Sith, embarking on this journey of being forged into one, could not be compared to anything she ever experienced. She could not blame the Jedi for their ignorance; and for her they were no longer standing on the wrong side. They were merely… beneath them. Down there, somewhere beyond the mines of Mangora, where the Temple was, they lived their small lives and bowed their heads before mortality. Her dare and her cheeky presumption that she could become so much more took her this far. It was her insolence that gave her the courage to reach out for this eternity, for this inhumanness, and try to claim it. And contrary to what she might have thought, the eternity did not slap her on the hand for asking for it. Quite on the contrary. It stretched out its own hand to her and helped her to her feet, gave her a new pair of eyes and a new heart, so that she could live again and see clearly and be born anew from the swamp of her mistakes and the principles and ideals inflicted upon her by the Jedi.

In the end, it did not matter how one called the path she found, because it was hers and it felt right to follow it. How could it be wrong, if it felt so right?


	37. Chapter 36 - Part Three

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXXVI – Humanness

A grand meeting was to take place that evening and Lady Tarralyanna and Tyananna were in Lady Tarralyanna's chambers, getting ready. One might think that two women getting ready for such a grand event would mean comparing clothes and fussing about their hair, but as it were, the two mostly talked.

"First I needed wide clothes because I was big," Tyananna complained, "and now I need wide clothes because I am big again. I am so… confused. This is contradictory."

"Yes, but this is the right kind of 'bigness'," Lady Tarralyanna said with a laugh, making up the Sith noun on the spot.

"It is useful, at last," she said, shrugging. "Those lumps of yours, no matter how horrible they might look like to you, are dead useful. I have seen what you can do with them."

"Actually," Tyananna said, glancing over herself and flexing her arms, "I feel like I have become a man. It is very interesting, is it not, to become the object of one's sexual fantasies? Now I do not need one any more. I can always look at myself in the mirror."

Lady Tarralyanna laughed.

"My Lady!" Peetah yelled from the doorway, her voice rife with panic. "You dressed by yourself! And… oh!"

She swallowed hard, spotting Tyananna. She flashed a smile at Peetah.

"Miss Tyananna, I have not helped you, either! But it is so early, I was washing your robes, and I thought…"

"It is all right," Lady Tarralyanna said, "We were just talking and we dressed in the meantime. We managed it just fine."

"I am very much afraid that you will have to make more clothes for me," Tyananna said apologetically, "Everything is becoming rather tight."

"It is because your body is growing rapidly stronger and stronger," Peetah said happily. "Of course; I shall start sewing already this evening."

When Peetah noticed what Lady Tarralyanna was doing, she yelped and hurried across the room to assist her. The least she could do was to help them now. She helped Lady Tarralyanna put her circlet on her head and swayed toward the wardrobe to fetch cloak.

"Oh, dear," Peetah squealed. "I have not taken your cloak with insignia to wash it, have I? I have a terrible memory!"

"No, Tyananna was trying it out to see whether she could fit in it," Lady Tarralyanna said calmly. "She cannot. It is over there." She pointed toward a chair in the corner. The old Malaskian breathed with relief.

"Insignia?" Tyananna echoed. "Do I have one, too?"

"But of course," Lady Tarralyanna said, chuckling. "I have seen you wear it!"

Curious, Tyananna picked up the cloak and examined it. Its hem was decorated with embroideries and Tyananna used to think they were just there as a decoration. Of course, she thought, recognising them. She had the same cloak in her own wardrobe.

"That is insignia?" she asked, pointing at it.

"Look more closely," Lady Tarralyanna said. "You might see a confusion of lines, but that is actually the crest of Gotan."

"So that is how everyone recognised me in the town," Tyananna said, whistling. "I was beginning to wonder."

"You, Tyananna, are sometimes outright silly," Lady Tarralyanna said, grinning.

"Are all female Sith in this room decent?" yelled a voice from the other side of the door. The two women exchanged glances and burst laughing.

"We are decent, Tammutyen," Tarralyanna yelled back. "You may come in."

Lord Tammutyen walked inside, fully dressed and ready for the meeting. With his long hair neatly braided and a thick circlet across his forehead he looked like a prince more than anything, Tyananna thought.

"And we are nearly done," Tyananna said, throwing her cloak over her shoulders despite of the Malaskian, who wanted to do it herself. She bit her lip and stood aside.

The meeting – together with a feast – was going to take place in the largest hall in the Court. It was all right while they were on their own; but as they entered the hall, Tyananna suddenly became aware of the fact everyone was staring at her and that she was wearing long robes, which made it exceedingly difficult for her to walk. Careful not to trip over her own clothes, she followed the two Sith inside and tried not to look at the crowd which was already assembled there. A table was set for them upon the elevation where the throne of the Lord of Gotan normally stood and Tyananna carefully climbed the stairs leading up to it, where she came to a full stop beside her seat, breathing with relief. She made it without making an idiot out of herself. It was only then she looked up and involuntarily gasped at the sight which met her eyes.

There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring back at her. Tall, thin Albinians from the Land of Montague sat not far away from the podium. The Malaskians from the County of Pallantia sat together at the table right next to them. The County of Pallantia was renowned for its woodwork, needlework and alike – their tablecloths and painted wooden bowls were famous across Horukaan, along with their excellent leather boots and shoes. Shamans from the Second Continent were also present, feathers and cobra teeth dangling from their necks, their messy hair decorated with animal teeth. Tyananna also saw representatives of the Hatjcet tribe, to her enormous surprise, who lived in the hills of Flotharr and kept to themselves. They believed that the people of Horukaan have gone too far in their hunt for treasure and lust for power and thus lead simple and humble lives. It was not hard to spot half-Caelians, who lived on the islands close the land of Iuthsowen, because they towered over everyone and were dressed in very simple, wide, light brown and red clothes, trying to hide their terribly slender figures and to look less like Caelians. According to the rumours they were half-bloods who ran away from the conservatories to live with their non-Caelian parents, only to find that they did not fit in there either, which was why they founded a society of their own. Droddians from Dankaar's Kingdom stood staring at the three Sith, so extravagantly dressed in rich hide and glittering with gold and jewels that they actually looked rather ridiculous. The warriors of Gangar were there as well, wearing warm furs and staring at the Sith with dignity, as though proud they knew more about the Dark Lord than anyone else. Tyananna also spotted representatives from Quentaa, who looked at the Sith with gratitude, because they established peace in the Kingdom of Quentaa and saved their King. At the far end of the hall stood a few people dressed as seamen, wearing high boots and knee-length coats, who were obviously representatives from the Empire of Larria.

All these people have come to see the Dark Lord and to hear him speak, Tyananna thought, still glancing over them. She felt a little nervous being so stared at but at the same time she noticed the air of respect and fear which did wonders for her feeling of self-importance. Some years ago she was a nameless Jedi, a nobody; and now she was enjoying the same respect and luxury as a princess would. Why, among millions and millions of people living on Horukaan, among hundreds of Jedi, did the Dark Lord choose her? She did not have any extraordinary abilities when he started teaching her. And yet, with time it became clear to her that the Dark Lord saw something in her she herself did not see. It was all slowly falling into place...

The door opened after what seemed like an eternity and the ruler of Gotan stepped inside. Was he always late on purpose?

After the deafening sound of the scraping of hundreds of chairs, ghostly silence fell upon the hall and Tyananna stared purposefully at her hands, waiting.

"Welcome, my guests," the Dark Lord yelled across the hall.

His powerful voice carried easily across the spacious hall and he let his glance wander. Some of these people have heard the truth about him only a few weeks ago – and now he was there in flesh. The idea frightened them. Some have seen the ruler of Gotan before, but they could not bring the ruler of Gotan in connection with the Sith. He looked impressive and intimidating, but not so much he could be called the Dark Lord of the Sith.

"You are here because you have signed my treaty," he went on seriously. "And you are here to hear my plans and to receive my orders. But above all, I know, you are here to see the new Dark Lord of the Sith in flesh and whether the rumours are true. They are true. The Sith Order has arisen from its ashes and it flourishes here in my Kingdom."

He let this proclamation sink in and then turned to the three Sith, who were staring at him.

"Meet my apprentices," he said next, waving toward them. "Not many are worthy of being taught in the Dark side – let that suffice. Lady Tarralyanna."

She got to her feet and gave a small nod at the crowd. Everyone glanced over her, taking in her appearance. Despite of her beauty and her apparent youth, they noted at once that she was not human and they could well believe she was a Sith.

"Lord Tammutyen," the Dark Lord said next.

Lady Tarralyanna graciously sat down while Lord Tammutyen got to his feet. His intimidating figure reminded the Droddians irresistibly of Rennokh, the celestial warrior, and they stared at him with admiration and approval.

"And Tyananna," the Dark Lord said last.

Everyone wondered whether he perhaps omitted to put a 'lady' in front of her name, but the Gangarians knew well he did not. They could understand warrior titles, if no one else could, and they understood at once what this meant. Her knees trembling badly, Tyananna got to her feet, and stared back at the crowd, knowing she had to. It was one thing to talk to the Chancellor in the gazebo; but being stared at and measured up by so many people was something quite different.

"First we shall all eat; and after the feast we shall get to work," the Dark Lord announced, at what the tall double door opened and an army of Malaskians trooped in, carrying trays with food.

As the assembled people now took this opportunity to exchange comments, what resulted in a general murmur, the Dark Lord sat down and looked at Tyananna.

"This is a good chance for you to practise, Tyananna," he said quietly, now speaking Sith. "Open yourself to the Dark side and reach for their thoughts. There are so many of them and it will undoubtedly prove to be very interesting."

"My Master," she said, surprised. "Will they not sense it?"

"Do we care?" the Dark Lord asked in return, picking up his napkin. "Wait for the food to arrive and then do it."

Once the Malaskians were done serving them, Tyananna put aside her goblet and immersed herself in the Dark side. Lord Tammutyen, who was sitting beside her, carefully followed what she was doing, his dark eyes twinkling.

As soon as she focused on their minds and thoughts, Tyananna's mind was flooded with a confusion of voices. Tyananna's Force ears wandered like a shadow through this confusion and she tried to isolate a few. This was perhaps the hardest part. She tried to focus on something extraordinary, on a certain voice which was different than the others. She succeeded. A torrent of very picturesque thoughts of one of the sailors filled her mind and she immediately concentrated on them, ignoring everyone else's.

He thought about what he did only a few weeks ago. He murdered the Empress of Larria using a very rare poison he acquired from a trader sailing through the Larrian waters from the Second continent, carrying many forbidden goods and a considerable amount of treasure which he acquired pirating. He spared him, he let him go, but demanded of him to give him a few things in return which were of interest to him, among which was this poison. The pirate was too grateful for his lucky escape to care about the loss and hastened to explain what the poison was and how it worked. Within a few days, the Empress was dead and Larria was in the state of general confusion. Now it was in the process of choosing the heir to the throne, and he was most certainly fighting his way through using his popularity, the many years he spent in service to the Empress and his excellent seamanship skills.

Tyananna opened her eyes and looked around, feeling slightly confused and disoriented. The Dark Lord read her mind with ease and nodded.

"Very good," he said, not remarking on what she just found out. Maybe he knew? "Keep practising. Now you have the perfect chance for that."

ooooooooooooooo

After the feast, the three Sith settled down in the gazebo to drink their wine on their own, away from the crowd.

"Why do you think," Tyananna asked, "Master did not do the same thing he once did with the King of Quentaa and the Chief? He only confirmed what the emissaries said, but he did not _show_ it to them."

"My guess is," Lady Tarralyanna said slowly, "that he wants to see who would be truly loyal to him and who would not, even without such displays."

"Exactly what I thought," Tyananna said happily.

Lord Tammutyen nodded and plucked out his cigar from his mouth, purposefully blowing smoke in in Tyananna's direction. But Tyananna was done with falling for such cheap tricks. She would not allow him to provoke her, because that was precisely what he wanted.

"Wish he would send me to execute a few traitors," he said dreamily. "It has been so long since I had the chance to blow off some steam."

"You killed thirty people," Lady Tarralyanna said, staring at him in disbelief, "and you ate until your stomach was bulging out like a frog's not a month ago. Do not tell me you are ready to do it again?"

Tyananna stared at him. The issue of his nutrition was normally not discussed and she for one did not try to bring it up. But as it dawned on her what exactly Lady Tarralyanna wanted to say, she shuddered.

"There, you see?" Lord Tammutyen said with a snort, turning to Tyananna, and, to her enormous surprise and shock, draped his large arm over her shoulders and pulled her to himself. "You got Tyananna scared of me again."

"I am not scared, let me go," Tyananna said in a muffled voice. Tarralyanna chuckled and shook her head.

"What is that racket?" Lady Tarralyanna asked suddenly.

They heard the same noise several times that evening, but this time they got to see who was making it. An old Malaskian woman, much older than Peetah, was pushing a trolley with mops and buckets of water across the terrace on the first floor and muttering to herself. Tarralyanna's eyes narrowed. She reached inside her robes and pulled something out of a thin, fine sheath. It was a very long dagger, which was made for throwing, and Tyananna often practised with that kind of thing in the Temple. When she realised what Lady Tarralyanna wanted to do, she reached forward to clap her hand, at what Lord Tammutyen caught her around her waist and pulled her back, wagging his finger at her. He looked back at Tarralyanna with a twinkle in his eyes.

Outraged, but knowing she would better keep quiet, Tyananna relaxed in his embrace and watched , horrified, as Lady Tarralyanna threw the dagger. At the same time she felt Lord Tammutyen's hands caressing her and she froze. The old Malaskian toppled over with a muffled yelp and several Albinians from Montague, who were just admiring the fountain, turned and pointed at her, wondering whether there was anyone who would help the woman. Tyananna tried to ignore Tammutyen's hands which were now on her thighs and watched as other Malaskian servants rushed to see what was amiss. They however halted dead at the sight of Lady Tarralyanna, who arose in her full height and stared at them. They knew perfectly well that the lives of servants belonged to the ruler of Gotan, ergo, to the princess as well, and that she had every right to kill any servant she liked. They retreated, bowing to her and bending down to lift the body. The representatives from Montague, however, seemed to be rather shocked and they kept staring at Lady Tarralyanna, who sat down again with dignity and relaxed in her seat, picking up her cigarette again and turning to the two Sith with a smile.

"Better," she said, nodding. "Such racket should be illegal, do you not think so?"

She did not seem to notice what was going on right in front of her nose and Tyananna for one did not know what to do. She tried to wriggle out of Tammutyen's embrace, but it was pointless. She decided to just let him hold her, not knowing what else to do. Perhaps this was how he expressed his fondness? After all, he grew up in isolation. Perhaps he had no idea that such a gesture could be interpreted quite differently.

"My apprentices," spoke a voice from the shadows. Tyananna was very grateful for the fact that the Dark Lord chose to appear in that precise moment, since it put an end to her agony.

"What it all this commotion?" the Dark Lord asked lazily, glancing around himself.

"Tarralyanna killed an old Malaskian who was annoying us," Lord Tammutyen said promptly.

"Did she, now?" the Dark Lord asked, turning to look in the direction of the remaining few Malaskians, who were trying to lift the body of the old woman, but who lowered themselves to their knees as the ruler of Gotan loomed up in sight.

He waved a careless hand and caught Lady Tarralyanna's dagger in mid-air, glancing over it. Then he handed it back to her and smiled.

"It was a good shot, my apprentice," he said.

"Thank you, my Master," Lady Tarralyanna replied with dignity.

Tyananna was startled. She expected him to reprimand her; not exactly to punish her, as she knew that Malaskians were slaves in Gotan, but she thought that he would at least scold her.

"Now come along," he went on, unconcerned, at what the three Sith got to their feet. "Tarralyanna, I want you over with the Albinians of Quentaa, the Malaskians from Pallantia and the others. They are in the northern gardens. Tammutyen, you will join the Droddians. And you, Tyananna, will join the representatives from Montague, half-Caelians and the others, who remained here. Your task is to speak to them and explain how things work with me and in my Kingdom. There are many things I did not have time to explain to them. Answer their questions but do not let yourself get dragged into debates. I put my trust in you to know what you can tell them and what you cannot tell them. I shall be discussing my plans with them in groups, since there are so many of them and I will call you. When I do, bring them to me."

Tyananna walked over to the large group of people, uncertain what to say or do, vaguely aware that Lady Tarralyanna crossed the garden in a few long paces she was renowned for and disappeared behind the trees, heading to the other garden. Was she supposed to say something, Tyananna asked herself? As flattered as she was to be chosen for such a task, she hated it because she was never good with people. She cleared her throat and glanced over the assembled people, all of whom stared expectantly at her.

"The Dark Lord sent me to remain here with you until you are called," she said, all the time aware that her Albinian must have sounded a little strange. Was it all that Sith she spoke every day or was she simply feather-brained again because she was being stared at? Get a grip, she told herself angrily.

"I am Tyananna of the Sith," she added. It made her feel a little less nervous.

"I am Kabbot from Montague," said the foremost Albinian, bowing to her. He seemed uncertain what to say and he was not the only one, though Tyananna was aware of the fact they were in a far worse position than she was.

"And I recognise you," said a voice from behind. Tyananna turned around as a figure stepped out from the group and approached her, uncertainly glancing over her.

The same was a Jedi knight, or used to be a Jedi knight, but after he failed to pass the examination, he left the Order. Apparently he did not have enough Force sensitivity to become a Jedi master. Tyananna's stomach gave an unpleasant flip as she recognised him. However, suddenly aware of the fact that he was far more nervous than she was, she relaxed a little and reminded herself that she was no longer the person he remembered.

"Oh, yes," she said. "I remember you. You once accidentally let a mushroom soup drop on Waak-Lin's head."

The man smiled nervously. Dressed like a common Albinian, he no longer looked like a Jedi, but the Force shone in his green eyes as he glanced over her. There was something resembling sympathy in his glance and Tyananna did not like it.

"I was surprised to see you alive," he said quietly.

"And I was surprised to find myself alive," she laughed.

"What happened to master Waak-Lin?" asked the former Jedi, eyeing her nervously.

"He got killed," Tyananna said flatly. "I was spared, because the Dark Lord chose me to be his apprentice."

The man gaped at her, wondering how this was possible and why she could speak so easily about the death of her best friend.

"How very strange, would you not say?" she went on conversationally. "But I suppose you have your own life story to retell. You were forced to leave the Jedi Temple; and yet you spent your youth trying to become a Jedi master. For what it is worth, I felt sorry for you."

The former Jedi blinked and shook his head sadly.

"I have travelled to Flotharr and there got accepted into their society," he said. "My sword-making skills helped me earn their trust and respect. I got chosen as a Chief after three years."

Chiefs in Flotharr were leaders of local communities, but they were also considered as spiritual leaders, people of great wisdom, who advised and helped people. There were twelve Chiefs in Flotharr – and they were all chosen by the people. Thus it was not surprising to see someone like this former Jedi get this honour, despite of the fact he was a newcomer. His wisdom and his serenity appealed to the people and they chose him to be their leader and adviser.

"I should congratulate you," Tyananna said with dignity. "You have done very well since you left the Order."

"You too, Larynthe," he said quietly.

"Tyananna," she corrected him. "Larynthe is gone."

"Yes, the name slightly confused me; that is why I have not recognised you at first," said the former Jedi slowly.

"It is a Sith tradition to change one's name when one starts down the Dark path," she said pompously.

"You are the last person on Horukaan I could imagine even contemplating such a thing, let along embracing the Dark path," he said before he lost his nerve.

"People change," she said in a low voice. "People learn. I certainly learned a lot from my death."

She grinned at him and his stupefied expression amused her.

"I am glad you are here, though," she said. "You chose to stand by the Dark Lord. And you chose wisely."

"I have done it because I do not want to see my people suffer," he said quietly. "They do not know the world, but I do. They believe in peace and in the help from above. I can see things as they are and I certainly learned something about the Dark side while I was living at the Temple. I do not want to repeat the same mistake which was made in the Second Age. The treaty sounded fair to me – and I signed it."

"You did well," Tyananna said, nodding. "The Dark Lord is most unforgiving to traitors, but he is reasonable with those who obey him."

"You certainly do, by the looks of it," he said before he could stop himself.

"Do you perhaps expect to hear a story about torture and coercion?" she suddenly asked, anger rising within her. "How the Dark Lord abducted me and forced me to become a Sith?"

The former Jedi stared at her in horror as she laughed contemptuously.

"He did none of those things," she said, looking straight into his green, round eyes. "He merely showed me the power of the Dark side and I immediately accepted it. Not many are born to serve it, though, and not many can understand what it means to be a Sith."

Tyananna might have wanted to tell the former Jedi a lot more, but she felt her Master calling to her.

"Come," she said loudly. "My Master wishes to see you."

oooooooooooooooooo

The following day Tyananna headed to the smithy after lunch and spent several hours working there. Her face covered in soot and coughing, she threw aside the tongs she used to dip a glowing sword blade into the water bucket and jumped as someone addressed her.

"I did not mean to give you a start," Lord Tammutyen said quietly, glancing over the smithy and then focusing on the sweaty Tyananna, who stared back at him. "What are you doing?"

"I am making myself a new sword," she said, glancing away from him. She recalled what happened in the gazebo and it made her feel nervous.

Lord Tammutyen swept inside, leaving a box full of daggers which needed sharpening on the rough wooden table and approached her.

"Master wants me to try working with heavier ones," Tyananna added.

"It would be understandable," Lord Tammutyen said in his deep, calm voice. "Your strength has grown considerably."

Tyananna looked away and reached out for the tongs, but Tammutyen was quicker. She wanted to tell him he should give them back to her, but he seemed to want to talk about something.

"I have noticed you think about me very often," he said, still staring at her in a way which made her extremely uncomfortable.

"Of course I do," she said with a snort, reaching out for the tongs again, but he pressed them firmly against his chest. "We live here together and we train together – or have you perhaps forgotten? I see you every day."

"Tarralyanna's sharp tongue is contagious, I see," he said with a smile. "No, I have not forgotten. But I was referring to other type of thoughts. You often stare at my body. And I have seen many pictures in your mind which involve you and me without clothes on."

Tyananna flushed to the tips of her ears and her face looked almost as red as her hair. She bowed her head.

"I am female and quite human," she said defiantly, knowing that she could not wriggle her way out of this. "It is only natural. You are the only male around here and I have never lived in such isolation before. I am getting accustomed to it."

"I wish to offer you anything you might want from me," he said calmly. "I know all there is to know about anatomy and how the human body functions. I know I could be of use to you."

Tyananna dropped the metallic cup she was drinking from when he said this and started to cough. Lord Tammutyen thumped her hard on the back and she took a deep, shuddering breath.

"There, you see?" he asked. "I know what to do what one is suffocating. But you have not given me an answer."

"Tammutyen, this is highly inappropriate," she stuttered, not looking at him and thus hoping she would be able to avoid any bit of mind reading he might attempt. "You are engaged."

"I cannot understand what is it that you are trying to tell me," he said confusedly.

Tyananna sighed and turned away from him.

"You are with Lady Tarralyanna," she said. He grabbed her and turned her to face him again.

"I am with no one; I am a Sith. I gave my oath to the Dark side only," he said, still sounding confused. "Lady Tarralyanna is my sister in the Dark side. So are you."

"Among normal, ordinary people, among whom I grew up," she said, now slowly losing patience and getting angry because of his inability to grasp such a simple premise as engagement, "one finds himself a partner and stays with him. Her, that is. One does not go around offering… things to other people."

She started to stutter and confuse Sith words and it was only then he began to understand what she was talking about.

"You are not an ordinary female," he said. "You are a Sith. 'Engagements', as you call them, are not a part of the life of a Sith. You are 'engaged' to the Dark side. You are not to be tied to anyone mortal. But that does not mean you do not have needs. And I can help you with that."

"I respect Lady Tarralyanna too much to ever consider something like that," Tyananna said contemptuously.

"It was Lady Tarralyanna who drew my attention to it in the first place," he said.

Tyananna could not believe her ears.

"She was concerned about you and as she knows I have different needs, that I think in a different way, that this would not occur to me," he calmly went on. "She was right. I thought you were merely impressed with my body and wanted to see the effects of many years of work on me, for the sake of comparison to your own work. That you perhaps wanted to get an idea where your own work and development might lead you. But I am impressed with your body, too, you know. Most of your old physique is gone and this has been accomplished in such a short time."

Tyananna thought that it could not get worse than Lady Tarralyanna's logical reasoning, but now she realised that she was quite wrong. It could get worse. And the evil was embodied in this inhuman, muscle-bound child which was looking at her in a highly alarming way.

"If I ever start talking like that, I will kill myself," she muttered.

She got to her feet, ready to fetch another pair of tongs, as he was still holding the ones she worked with, but he intercepted her. She stared up at him, flaring her nostrils.

"I am sure I can help you," he said quietly, his dark eyes boring into hers. She made a move to get away from him, but he suddenly grabbed her elbows and pressed his lips on hers. Gasping for air, she struggled wildly in his embrace, but his strong arms would not let go of her.

Yes, she fantasised about him, but that was all it was, a fantasy. Lady Tarralyanna and he looked as though they were made for each other. She tried to push him away by putting her hands on his chest, which felt icy cold and rigid under her fingertips. Curiously, it did not occur to her that she could use the Dark side.

His hands wandered over her back and finally his buried them in her hair, caressing it and rubbing her neck. Tyananna slackened in his embrace, allowing him to pull her toward him and passionately returned the kiss. Lady Tarralyanna certainly had a very good kisser as a boyfriend, she thought. As she thought about Lady Tarralyanna, she suddenly realised what she was doing and pushed him forcibly away. Lord Tammutyen stumbled and stared at her, surprised and confused, an obvious question of what he did wrong written all over his pale face.

"This is wrong," she panted, shaking her head and backing away. "I cannot believe I did this!"

"Why would it be wrong?" he asked. "I admire you and I want to help you. I want to learn more about you, the way you function and the way you handle things. And you desire me as a male; I can offer you that, too, despite of the fact I am not human."

"Move away from me," she hissed angrily. "I hate you."

"That is not what I saw in your mind," he said simply. "The Dark side despises insincerity. Do not offend it with lies."

She snorted angrily. Kissing him reminded her of her youth, when she practised kissing on an ice cube. And yet it was obvious that he knew what to do, both with his arms and with his tongue. Tyananna has never been kissed like that and the sheer thought made her even angrier.

"I do not want anything from you," she barked, pushing him away and grabbing the tongs which he left on the table.

"You have grown so strong," he said in an awed voice. "I am sorry you do not want to let me see your body, to explore it and to learn more about it."

"That is how you call it, is it?" she barked. "I call it very lousy seduction."

"Tyananna," he said softly, almost sadly. "The Kyo'tan do not feel the urge to procreate. We cannot. It is not how we function. But, like I said, I can help you, because I learned how to act against my own nature – thus I have been pleasing Tarralyanna."

"Oh, yes, denial is the best way to get your claws on a woman," she snorted as she picked up the sword blade.

"Do you think I am lying?" he asked simply. He shook his head and looked away from her. He looked sincerely disappointed. She put down her tongs and stared at him.

"Are you trying to tell me that you employ some secret technique to make love to Lady Tarralyanna?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered placidly. "I concentrate. On things you would not want to know about. But this is what makes it possible for me to act as a partner Lady Tarralyanna needs. She has never been displeased, I can assure you."

Tyananna stared at him. He _was _serious. She was suddenly overcome with the urge to know everything about it, but she shook her head and looked away.

"I do not believe this," she muttered.

"I can show you, if you like," he said seriously. "And you do not have to worry about children. I am quite incapable of reproduction. Tarralyanna told me about your dilemma. Since I had an accident which changed me I lost the ability to function like a human male. But with time, I learned how to temporarily assume the role of one."

"However," he went on placidly, as he perceived she wanted to hear an explanation, "I am nothing like the males you are accustomed to."

"Really?" she asked, feigning surprise and picking up her hammer.

"I no longer understand humans," he said sadly. His tone attracted her attention and made her look at him once again. "What made it so hard for me to try to behave like one. But Tarralyanna has been very patient with me. She told me what she liked and what she wanted me to do."

"Has not Master taken care of her ability to procreate, too?" Tyananna asked aggressively. It was a childish and stupid attempt to catch him lying so that she could get even for kissing her by force and making her enjoy it.

"He has," Tammutyen said. "But you will find that Tarralyanna has powerful urges and mating is something that only comes along with it."

"What is it?" Tyananna asked curiously.

"I will not tell you if she has not," Tammutyen said resolutely, tossing a sharpened dagger into the box.

Tyananna shook her head and got back to work. For a considerable amount of time all one could hear was her furious hammering and the creaking of the grinding wheel. At long last she heard him get to his feet and pick up the box.

"I understand that the way the Sith function must be in sheer contrast to what you are accustomed to," he said, watching her from above. She looked up and their glances met. "I do not know with what I might have offended you or why you said you hated me. I know you do not. And I can understand you are embarrassed, too. But I can assure you that you do not need to be embarrassed about anything."

He tentatively leaned forward until their noses were only inches away. It was not exactly hard for Tyananna to see through his intentions, but she noted that this time he took a different approach to the matter. Slowly, as though trying to fathom out whether she was going to punch him in the face, he kissed her and she closed her eyes. She could not deny that he was driving her mad. Was it due to the isolation or due to the stress, she did not know. Was it the way he smelled? That spicy, mysterious scent which was making her dizzy? Or was it the fact that he was not human and that he was so very different than any man she ever met? Was it his unnatural coldness and the fact that he had to drink blood in order to survive? Perhaps it was a combination of all these things which made him so irresistible.

When he slowly pulled back, Tyananna opened her eyes, wondering what made her do it. He smiled and placed a cold hand on her cheek. It felt like a stiff piece of meat against her warm, human skin.

"My offer still stands," he said, glancing over her and then backing away. "Think about it. And let me know. I do not want to make you feel either embarrassed or angry."

He turned, picked up his box and swept out of the smithy, his long hair billowing behind him. Tyananna breathed with relief when he was gone and buried her face in her hands, unable to stop thinking about the kiss.

oooooooooooooooooo

The following morning they had the strangest training, which confused all three Sith apprentices. Even Tammutyen, who made a serious study of Droddian combat styles and the development of the Albinian fighting skills throughout centuries, was completely clueless and could not understand what they were being taught, even after they were done with their training. It was such a combination of everything they ever learned, such a complicated, strange combination which, upon the first glance, was quite pointless.

"This technique," the Dark Lord said loudly, "is the blend of many things. It is not a b'daar or any kind of a ready-made sequence of movements. It will serve to train you in the art of improvisation. So far, it would have been natural of me to expect you to be able to use your weapons and at the same time use, for instance, a stick which you found on the ground or a small dagger. But what I want you to learn is how to manage every situation and more than ten opponents, by using every means accessible to you. Thus do not even try to memorise the exercises – for they will never be the same."

He turned around and snapped his fingers at Tyananna, who was still trying to catch her breath, as the Dark Lord's idea of warming up was to go through the first five b'daars without taking a break. She was warmed up all right. Or, to be more exact, steaming.

"You will be working with two swords," the Dark Lord said, taking them down from the wall and proffering them to her. They were heavy, she concluded. But they were nothing like her M'Hoor.

"You with two Mroth'Kah," the Dark Lord went on, handing a pair of very strange weapons to Tarralyanna. She recognised those as she used to play with them as a child. She expected something horribly heavy and hard to use, but instead she got her old play toys. They were imitations of her Saragon, but the spheres were ridiculously small compared to those of the Saragon and the chains spread in four directions from the small cross designed to enable one to hold the weapon tightly. Each Mroth'Kah had four spheres attached to it.

"As you have noticed," the Dark Lord went on, as he walked back to the corner where they kept their weapons. "These weapons are not designed to inflict serious injuries. They are here solely for the purpose of exercise. What you will be concerned about will be speed and endurance."

He handed what looked like two double-bladed spears to Lord Tammutyen, who spun them around in his hands as soon as his Master turned his back to him, trying out their balance. He furrowed his brow. They were light and their balance was not in the centre, as it was the case with his Ptah, but rather at the ends.

"Now I shall explain to you what I want you to do," the Dark Lord went on, taking off his cloak.

Uh-oh, Tarralyanna thought, this is never a good sign. He only takes off his cloak when he wants to demonstrate something and his demonstrations are usually an introduction to a very long and horrible training session. The Dark Lord picked up a handful of throwing stars from a peg and turned to face them again.

"The exercises by themselves are not very hard. However, I want you to focus on speed, force and the Dark side. First exercise – I will be throwing throwing stars at you. Your task is to make the best out of that situation. You may use the stars against me; you may defend yourselves. You may also evade all of the stars I throw at you. The choice is yours and you must esteem the situation and make the best out of it. Lady Tarralyanna, you may go first."

Tyananna thought that this was not so bad. However, when she saw Lady Tarralyanna spinning so fast she was a blur, with the eight spheres fizzing around her head and intercepting the throwing stars, Tyananna sighed. She would never be able to do that, even if she trained from dusk till dawn.

Lord Tammutyen looked a little concerned as he was waiting for his turn, constantly trying out the balance of his strange spears and frowning to himself. It was obvious that he did not feel comfortable with such weapons. But after he was done, Tyananna thought he did well enough.

"Lord Tammutyen, are you still warming up?" the Dark Lord asked, his eyes flashing dangerously at the Sith knight, who bowed his head. He turned to Tyananna, who felt as though she had a lump in her throat.

"Tyananna," he said. "I shall throw only ten stars at you and I will not do it as quickly. Let us see how you will do, shall we?"

Tyananna felt anger rising within her and her nervousness was gone in a second. She remembered the way everyone used to treat her, as though they already expected her to fail before she could even have a go at it.

"I would prefer to be treated the same way," she said loudly. "My Master."

Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen exchanged glances and for a moment the expression on the Dark Lord's face was inscrutable. Then he smiled.

"Spoken like a true Sith," he said, straightening up. "Stand by."

Tyananna came to the conclusion that rage indeed helped her in her training. At times it gave her such a clear focus that it seemed as though time stopped and the everything that existed was her and her purpose.

And she felt it now as well. As the star flew toward her, she spun around, noting the trajectory with her Force eyes and reacting. As much as she complained about her muscular arms, now they were at last of some use to her, because the her arms managed the weight of her swords just fine. Before she became a Sith, it never occurred to her how important it was to be physically strong. At the Jedi Temple, no one paid much attention to this. This was why the Jalá swords were mostly very light, so that anyone could use them. The Jedi relied on the Force for most things.

And her initial success continued. She was so caught up with it that she lost her focus and was forced to evade the flying star by throwing herself on the floor, jumping to her feet as soon as she landed. Now she was a little behind, because the Dark Lord was throwing the stars at her in a steady rhythm. She acted instinctively. She used one foot to intercept the star, which grazed her, but she paid no attention to the pain. The last one she managed to actually catch between the sword blades and she threw it on the ground with an angry growl.

It took her some time to realise that the Dark Lord was done with throwing. But when she did, she doubled over and closed her eyes, sweat pouring down her forehead.

"Improvisation," he said quietly. He cracked a smile. Looking over her shoulder, Tyananna noticed that Tarralyanna and Tammutyen were watching her with appreciation.

"Had this been an exercise involving strict rules, you would have failed, as you were not quick enough. However, you showed a talent for improvisation, which helped you a great deal. This seems to be your strength, my apprentice. Lady Tarralyanna. Your turn."

Tyananna felt she finally found something she was good at. Although her 'improvisation' was at times painful, she noted, to her surprise, that it was highly useful. What was perhaps the best of all was that Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen looked at her with approval and tapped her on the back in their passing as they swapped places. As for the Dark Lord, he nodded at her each time and this was quite enough for Tyananna. He approved of her work.

Once the Dark Lord announced that they were done, she threw herself on the floor and swallowed the content of her water bottle in a few gulps. Lady Tarralyanna dropped down on the floor beside her and started to stretch, obviously relieved that this strange training has finally come to an end.

The Dark Lord did not leave, as he always did after they were done. Instead he sat down on his chair and started flipping through his notebook, not paying attention to them any more.

'Why is he still here?' Tyananna thought, looking at Lady Tarralyanna. The latter shrugged, casting a glance in his direction.

As he already said they were done, they could naturally leave. Once they were done with their stretching, the Sith got to their feet. Lord Tammutyen draped his shirt which was drenched in sweat over his shoulders and headed toward the door.

"Tyananna," the Dark Lord called to her.

What does he want to speak to me about, she thought as she approached him? So that was why he remained in the hall.

"Sit down," he said, pointing toward a chair. She did so, thinking that this could not be a good sign. The fact that offered her a seat meant that he had a lot to tell her and that it would take some time.

"You have been diligently working on your emotion control, I see," he started, closing his notebook and putting it aside. "And you have been using your rage."

"But I must draw your attention to something related to it," he went on. "It is no good trying to ignore your sexual drives. You are still a human being and you should not ignore such things."

Tyananna flushed to the tips of her ears and looked down on her hands, not believing her ears. Were her thoughts so loud for everyone to hear? Would her most intimate thoughts now be dissected? A few pictures and thoughts, that is all it was and yet everyone makes such a fuss over them, she thought. I will never think about such things again when I am around people, she thought furiously. I will rather count the number of hairs on my head.

"I am your Master, Tyananna," the Dark Lord said. "I am not merely your teacher. I am your guide in the Dark side. I must know all there is to know about you and I also need to know your most intimate thoughts, in order to be able to guide you. You may rest assured that I will not share them with either Lady Tarralyanna or Lord Tammutyen."

"Well, it so seems that they already know," she said a bitterly. "And Lord Tammutyen made a… strange offer to me."

"That is indeed very insightful of him," the Dark Lord said.

"But he does not understand," Tyananna said quickly. She felt so annoyed about the whole thing that she now really wanted to talk about it.

"I like and respect Lady Tarralyanna and I could never accept such an offer," Tyananna said, shaking her head.

"My apprentice," the Dark Lord said patiently. "You forget that our system of values is very much different than what you are accustomed to. We value advancement – and one cannot advance if one's body and mind are not in perfect harmony. If something is out of place, it will reflect on your work and your advancement. And something _is_ out of place."

"I will also explain to you what Lord Tammutyen undoubtedly already tried to explain to you," he went on. "Lord Tammutyen does not 'belong' to anyone, nor does Lady Tarralyanna. You should not either. That is a perverted illusion of those who are slaves to their emotions. A Sith belongs to no one and is not attached to anyone. Lord Tammutyen offered to help you, because he realised you had a problem. And you should not see it in any other way."

"I am not sure," Tyananna said after a pause, "that it would solve the problem. It might only make it worse."

"Be it as it may –" the Dark Lord said, "– and I approve of your way of thinking – something has to be done about it. It is an obstruction to your advancement and I will not allow it."

"You should think about it," he said, getting to his feet. "This is not an advice. It is an order. Your hormones are an obstruction to your work. I leave it to you to decide what to do about it. Your hands are untied. But I want you to resolve this problem."

He left the hall and Tyananna looked down on her hands and shook her head. She realised that this was not about Tammutyen – her hormones were driving her crazy and since he was the only male around, except for the Dark Lord, she had no one else to fantasise about except about him.

She knew now she had to do something about it, but she doubted that accepting Tammutyen's offer would solve the problem. It might make things even harder for her. And yet… perhaps that way she might get a sort of a closure, if she did accept his offer. She growled and pointed her finger at her M'Hoor which obediently zoomed into her hand. At that moment, Tyananna wished she was not human. Her life could have been simpler.


	38. Chapter 37 - Part Three

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXXVII – The Fifth Season

Wind swept over the courtyard of the Sith Temple and Peetah looked in the direction of the mountains in the distance, shuddered, and then went back inside through the back door, carrying her broom in her hand. Tyananna came out a few moments later and stared in the distance, crossing her hands on her chest. It all seemed like a distant memory. The Jedi Temple, Waak, her life as a Jedi... as though it happened in three centuries ago. So much happened in the meantime, so much has changed. She never felt more alive than here in the Sith Temple and her days have never been so full. She surprised herself, as she seemed to be managing everything just fine.

It was three days before the Fifth Season and already now she could feel it coming. The skies went gloomy grey and the scent of rain was in the air. But the sky looked different and she could already note that it was getting darker despite of the fact it was daytime. The Fifth Season was a phenomenon occurring every five years and the world transformed during those few weeks. The emissaries from the many countries hurried home after the meeting, but many of them would have to face the Fifth Season while travelling.

The Dark Lord did not intend to show his new allies the power of the Dark side. But it happened anyway. His rage, when unleashed, was too terrible to behold. All around him answered to it, it rose in indignation and the Dark side was unleashed in all of its horror. It turned over tables, set the curtains on fire, shattered glass and smashed lanterns, made the torches explode with flame which went right up to the ceiling, making the whole hall look as though it was on fire. The Dark side might be a powerful tool in the hand of a Sith; but when directed at foes, it showed its ugly face, its destructiveness and horror.

The Dark Lord ordered his new allies to start rallying soldiers and after what they have witnessed, none of them even considered to disobey him. For a moment that tall, serious man transformed into a black hole of rage which threatened to suck everything and everyone in, and they left Gotan convinced that this Sith was perhaps even worse than the Dark Lord of the Second Age.

"I offer you all a chance," the Dark Lord said to the frightened people, "to follow me and to be my allies in this war. In return you shall have my protection and my support, as I promised. Do not think for a moment that you can betray me; that you go to the Jedi Temple and tell those monkeys who I am. For I would hear it, I would know it. I would not rest until I hunted you down. And then… death would be too good for you."

Tyananna wondered for a while whether the information about her would reach the ears of the Jedi. She doubted it, despite of the fact that there were many people who heard her story, as she spoke to that former Jedi knight in the garden of the Court. But it mattered little; for now there was no going back and she did not want to go back, even if she could.

"Tiya," said a voice next to her. She jumped, turning around and spotting the smiling face of Lady Tarralyanna.

"Lull before the storm?" she said quietly, coming to a stand beside her and lighting up a cigarette which she miraculously pulled out of her very wide cloak which resembled, in Tyananna's opinion, a bed sheet with a hole for the head. Lady Tarralyanna loved wide clothes.

"The Fifth Season always frightened me," Tyananna said quietly. "Though I suppose it will be a relief not to see the suns for a while."

"Yes," Lady Tarralyanna nodded. "But you will experience it for the first time through the Dark side. And it will be beautiful, I can assure you."

"It is something to wonder at, after all," she went on conversationally, her sapphire eyes glinting with excitement. "Astronomers of old have tried to solve the mystery and explain why this phenomenon occurs, but to no avail."

"It is a common belief that the Fifth Season comes when god Narywath turns his eyes away from the world and forsakes it," Tyananna said, remembering that perhaps Lady Tarralyanna did not know about this, though it was common knowledge.

"Nonsense," Lady Tarralyanna said, giving a laugh and waving off. "It is an astronomical phenomenon, nothing more. I have learned astronomy from the great Caelian scholars and they made a study of it."

"Where have you learned about astronomy from the Caelians?" Tyananna asked, surprised.

"Master has their manuscripts," Lady Tarralyanna said simply. "Horukaan, as a planet, revolves around the twin sun system of Cyrron and Luth. However, the Caelian scholars believe that a deviation in its orbit is the reason why during the Fifth Season we experience two weeks of complete darkness. The reasons for this are still unclear. Some believe that the Fifth Season occurs only on this side of the planet; some believe that it can be observed everywhere. Be it as it may, the Fifth Season is a relatively new concept, since it did not occur in the First Age, for instance. The reason for this – and it sounds perfectly plausible to me – is that the Cyrron sun is exponentially growing and that the Luth sun is getting smaller and smaller. Common people ascribe various fantastic meanings to this phenomenon and since its first occurrence it has been an inspiration to many, what resulted in legends and strange beliefs. Hence this silly belief that the god Narywath forsakes the people during the Fifth Season. There is no Narywath."

"You believe so?" Tyananna asked dreamily, not looking at her.

"The Dark side, as well as the light side, is an emanation of one source of creation, which is beyond our comprehension," Lady Tarralyanna said seriously. "And this source of creation does not have a name, nor does it have a face. It exists on a plane we cannot touch or perceive. It does not exist in the way we interpret existence; and yet its existence is indisputable."

"It sounds logical," Tyananna said. "Though I cannot understand what you just said."

"You have not read the last two books of the Sith Code, have you?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, smiling at her.

"No," said Tyananna, "I am still reading the fifth. They are very demanding, you know. I cannot exactly read it while having coffee."

"Quite," Lady Tarralyanna said. "But in the last two books, when you get to them, you will find the theory of creation written by the Dark Lord of the First Age, along with his presumption that the growth of one sun will cause fantastic changes on Horukaan, which will happen in a few thousand years. He called it 'the long night' and 'rest from the garish daylight'. It depicts the Fifth Season very well, do you not think so?"

"Is it just me, or were all Sith so very clever and talented?" Tyananna asked, baffled.

"They were," Lady Tarralyanna said, leaning against her. "Not anyone can be a Sith, as you know. The demands are great – Force sensitivity, of course, willpower, devotion to work... Thus it should not surprise you that each Sith excelled in one field, be it combat, science or something else. The Dark side inspires us; but it also gives us the power to further develop our talents and to follow our path."

"Why has it chosen me, then?" Tyananna asked. "I do not know much about anything; I am not good at calculations and I do not know everything about the anatomy of all races on Horukaan. I am not that good at combat skills, though I try really, really hard."

"I had no idea what I was good at while I was a child, either," Lady Tarralyanna said, shrugging. "Give the Dark side some time and your talents with come forth."

"Oh, I forgot why I to talk to you in the first place, so silly of me," Lady Tarralyanna said suddenly. "Master has given us permission to go out on our free day – and it is also the last day of the Fiery Season. Tammutyen and I wanted to go on a trip in the mountains and we want you to go with us. You can bring your lute and play music for us! Tammutyen loves it, though he never told you."

Tyananna went red as Lady Tarralyanna mentioned him and the other Sith squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"He made his offer to you because I told him to do so," she said, staring at her. The way everyone knew what Tyananna was thinking about was driving her crazy. "Our system of right and wrong only accepts everything that benefits us and helps our advancement as right and everything else as wrong. You are a Sith – you do not need to be afraid of the vengeance of some thought-of deity, because no such thing exists. You should only be concerned about the Dark side and the Dark side does not approve of weakness and status quo. I am sure it is hard for you to get rid of all of the things you have been taught and indoctrinated with; but you must at least realise that it really makes no sense, no matter what your upbringing would say about it."

"But..." Tyananna stuttered. Lady Tarralyanna clapped a hand over her mouth and lifter her eyebrows.

"It is just some stupid rule you have been brainwashed with," she said seriously. "I hope you realise that?"

Tyananna managed to nod.

"Think about it. You need to act, soon," Lady Tarralyanna added. Tyananna nodded again and sighed as the other Sith withdrew her hand and smiled at her.

"Now come on," she said, grabbing her hand. "Let us go to the library and finish our work. We have been wasting our time long enough by standing here and talking."

They found Lord Tammutyen in the library, who had unrolled a large scroll and spread it across his table. He stared at it with his brow furrowed and looked up when they entered.

"Finally," he said, beckoning to them. "Come here."

They environed the table and glanced over the scroll. It was a very detailed chart of their star system and beside the drawing of each planet, sun or moon were Sith glyphs and Sith digits.

Lord Tammutyen tapped a finger at the minute scribbles beside the drawing representing Horukaan.

"What does this mean?" he asked impatiently.

"Those are estimates," Lady Tarralyanna said knowledgeably, leaning over the scroll. "This, for instance, is the speed with which our planets turns around its axis. This indicates how many Cyrron and Luth hours we averagely get during all four seasons."

"And this?" Lord Tammutyen demanded to know.

"That is the equation estimating Cyrron's growth, meaning its mass and its brightness," Lady Tarralyanna said promptly.

"We know how much it weighs?" Lord Tammutyen asked, surprised. Lady Tarralyanna flashed a smile at him.

"Yes, we do," she said, nodding. "Of course, it is an estimate, for we cannot find scales big enough to put it on to see for ourselves."

"Very funny," Lord Tammutyen growled, obviously jealous of her knowledge.

"But with digits that large, every error can be safely neglected," she said smartly.

"Who drew this?" Tyananna asked, glancing over the scroll in awe. To her, it was like revelation. She had no idea some of these things were known and yet they could stand so calmly beside this priceless chart whereas some people would kill for it.

"Master," Lady Tarralyanna said simply. Then she pointed toward a distant shelf, where Tyananna could see similar large scrolls with labels sticking out. "All of the star charts are there, including maps of the planet."

"What is this?" Tyananna asked suddenly, pointing at a small dot marked with a Sith glyph which stood for 'the unknown'.

"That is a part of Master's theory, which he formed after he studied all of the work of the Dark Lord of the First Age," Lady Tarralyanna said, crossing her hands on her chest and sighing, as though she wished she could do that as well. "According to his calculations, because of the fluctuations in the magnetic fields of the planets and moons, there is a moon or an asteroid which has not yet been charted."

"This is… _fascinating,_" it escaped Tyananna, who sat on the unoccupied chair and stared down at the chart with her eyes glinting. "Simply fascinating."

"I was actually looking for a clue on the Fifth Season," Lord Tammutyen said, as though feeling a little neglected.

"Here it is," Lady Tarralyanna said readily, pointing at a cluster of glyphs beside Horukaan. "The deviation, calculated – and it lasts exactly twenty-four days and eleven hours."

"You always have an answer to everything, do you?" Lord Tammutyen said grumpily. Tyananna felt him brush against her and she shuddered, suddenly forgetting what she had been thinking about until then.

"But does it explain the other phenomena which occur during the Fifth Season, except for the two weeks of darkness?" Tyananna asked. This time, Lady Tarralyanna shook her head.

"No," she said quietly, as though this was her own failure.

"That is one mystery to solve for our know-it-all," Lord Tammutyen said with a smirk. Lady Tarralyanna threw him a filthy look.

"Then what is this?" Tyananna asked, pointing at the chart again.

"That is a part of another Master's theory, which he chose to write down for us to consider, come to our own conclusions and then take the matter further," Lady Tarralyanna said, little more brightly. "He believes that our planet passes through a cloud of space dust, what would account for the unnatural darkness and all other strange phenomena occurring during the Fifth Season."

Tyananna stared at her, bewildered.

"But I have not yet had the time to make any calculations or observations which might corroborate his theory. I do not know whether Master has any news on the issue."

"Have all Sith known so much about astronomy?"Tyananna asked.

"No," Lady Tarralyanna said with a laugh. "We all have our strengths. I learned mathematics, physics, astronomy and geology since I started reading. Tammutyen on the other hand was taught anatomy and history. He also knows a lot about healing, potions and herbs. That is why I always go to him when I feel unwell or when I have pains. He has an answer to everything."

"Battle tactics also," he said, nodding. "That has always been a passion of mine. But also, poetry and music. Tarra does not appreciate music."

"I most certainly do," Tarralyanna said in indignation, snorting at him. "I like listening to it and I can appreciate it. But I think that to start learning how to play an instrument would be just going too far. I would be horrible at playing it."

"Poetry?" Tyananna asked, surprised. "Do you write it or read it?"

"Both, actually," Tammutyen said.

"Will you let me read something you have written?" Tyananna asked, grinning. She missed her books and poetry which she loved to read while she lived at the Jedi Temple.

"Perhaps," Lord Tammutyen said mysteriously.

What was he writing, Tyananna asked herself? She had to try to get her hands on some of it, at any cost. Somehow the fact that he appreciated music and poetry changed her opinion on him.

ooooooooooooooooooo

When Tyananna came back to her chambers she found Peetah changing her sheets, who seemed to be rather embarrassed about it.

"Should have come earlier," Peetah said, swaying across the room to fetch the freshly laundered sheets. "I am so sorry, miss Tyananna. Husband and I were busy in the garden, we were putting torches for the vegetables to be able to grow during the Fifth Season."

"What is it like here?" Tyananna asked, not paying the slightest attention to her apologies, because Peetah apologised about everything. "I have never lived so far up north and I have no idea how the Fifth Season is like here."

"Ooh, miss, I do not like it," Peetah said, shuddering. "That strange darkness... it makes me feel very uncomfortable. And the smells are strange. But what I do not like about it the most is that it is so quiet; it seems as though all animal life has gone to sleep. There are no animals around here during the Fifth Season."

"What do your people say about it?" Tyananna asked, busy with her plait.

"That it is a time to go to sleep, because everything else does," Peetah said, looking flattered that Tyananna wanted to know what the Malaskians thought about the Fifth Season. "But it is frightening, miss, for us. Not for you, certainly. Sith like darkness; Sith have no fear, unlike we poor humans."

Tyananna laughed.

"You know, I said something of the sort only a few days ago," she said, taking her sad'khai off. "I said I wished I was not human, so that I would not have to feel either distraught or frightened."

"But you _are __not human_, miss Tyananna," Peetah said sincerely, with a dose of surprise. "You are a Sith, one of the great warriors who do not know fear or doubt."

"I know fear, Peetah," Tyananna said quietly. "Much better than I would want to."

"You do not," said Peetah with a wide smile. "Do you fear the Dark side?"

"Why would I fear the Dark side?" Tyananna asked, surprised. "I think I am well past that stage of being afraid of the one thing which I call home."

"If you do not fear the Dark side," Peetah said, wearing an expression of admiration, "then you do not fear anything, child. Ah, you powerful cannot understand what it is like for ordinary humans! There are certainly people who would like to be so powerful – but they are too afraid of the Dark side. To be a Sith, one must have no fear whatsoever. That I have learned during the years I spent with Lady."

She left Tyananna standing in the middle of her room, thinking about this. She was no longer afraid of the Dark side, true – and why? Because her Master once meditated with her and since then everything changed. Now when she meditated she immediately delved into the Dark side without further ado or second thoughts.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Head still full of preparations for the Fifth Season, Tyananna departed very early with Tarralyanna and Tammutyen to the mountains, her lute carefully packed. The unnatural gusts of wind ceased and were replaced by complete immobility of the air. It looked almost as though the whole world was frozen in time.

The light of the Cyrron sun already looked very faint and its rays cast eerie shadows on the ragged mountain cliffs. The sky was rapidly growing darker and darker, whereas Tyananna spotted only a few animals along the way, which seemed to be in a hurry and as though they had more important things to do than stare at the three Sith. It felt as though something was coming to an end and this strange emptiness was a little unsettling. And yet the Dark side was there as always, which was why the Sith seemed as little perturbed with this change as possible, if one would exclude excitement.

"It is Droddian belief," said Lord Tammutyen from up ahead, "that the Fifth Season is a time for warriors to prepare for a new year and new challenges, for new battles. It is a time for gathering energy, for mulling over what happened in the past five years and preparations for new challenges and new life. The story of Rhahtah, the great warrior of Droddia – which later fell apart and split into several smaller kingdoms – is closely related to the Fifth Season as Droddians see it. He died in the eve of the Fifth Season, killed when turned with his back to his foes, ran through with a sword. It is said that people were so afraid of him that they thought the safest method of dealing with him was to kill him when he would not be looking and would not be able to defend himself. On the first day of the next year he arose once again and challenged those who killed him in such a cowardly way. He killed them and avenged his own death in that way. Hence the Droddian laws of battle to which they adhere to – that no honourable warrior should ever kill his foe while defenceless. It is said to bring the curse of Rhahtah upon one and that whoever does not act honourably in battle would die in their sleep and in great pain, whereas their bodies would be carried off by birds of prey and scattered all across Horukaan. For those without honour deserve no proper burial."

"Such a wonderful legend," Lady Tarralyanna said. "So what do they do during the Fifth Season?"

"Droddians generally throw away their old weapons and make new ones, believing that the hand of Rhahtah shall bless them and empower them with his strength and that such weapons could defeat anyone. But only if they vow never to fight anyone unworthy, meaning weaker than they are; that they would act honourably; that they would never cheat in battle, conceal a weapon or something like that. There is a great feast in the honour of Rhahtah which takes place at the end of the Fifth Season, before which everyone in the family who made new weapons, tosses them into the fire which they set up in front of the house, and before it, swear that they would act as honourable warriors of Droddia, bring it glory and defend its name. It is a custom to eat bears or lions, as it is the case with Dankaar's Kingdom. I believe I remember also that no vegetables are allowed throughout the whole Fifth Season – because the warriors are gathering strength and they do not wish to be as weak as plants, which anyone can pluck out and break."

"Well, that is silly," Lady Tarralyanna said. "But you know, you respect most of the Droddian traditions. Have you noticed?"

"I am not doing that on purpose," Lord Tammutyen said. "It is just the way I am. But unfortunately there will be no fresh meat for me today. All the animals are gone."

"Well, there is plenty of food for me and Tiya. Look at these berries, for instance!" Lady Tarralyanna said.

She raised a hand and wrapped the fingers of the Dark side around a branch of the bush beside the road, catching a handful of berries as they flew at her. She swallowed them without further ado.

"I hope I will not become as weak as the berries, for someone to pluck _me_ out," Tyananna said, riding behind her.

The road led steeply upwards, which had been swept clean by the vicious wind which raged during the past few days. Now it was ghostly silent and it stretched like a long snake in front of them. A dark cloud loomed up in sight as they passed by a tall cliff – it was dark violet with a tinge of black. All life has gone to sleep, even the sky, Tyananna thought. Why was this so frightening? Was it because it was unnatural? The birds were gone and the usual sound of the fluttering wings was absent; not a croak of a raven could be heard, not a crack in the bushes indicating that there was a lizard slithering about; nor a rustle of leaves, indicating that there was a worm crawling underneath. And while all sleeps and flees before darkness and the change which is about to take place, she thought, we, the Sith, remain here.

"Let us camp here," Lady Tarralyanna said, jumping off her horse when they reached a handsome plateau at the side of a mountain. "Such a wonderful view!"

Mountain ranges were everywhere and the little silver flowers shaped as stars which grew throughout the whole of Gotan dotted the grass, undisturbed by the wind. The grass was light green and scarce, but even this was a great improvement for the kingdom of Gotan. In the distance shone the white peaks of the Go'Tror, the great mountain range which was not so high, but rather stretched like a long snake northward, in the direction of the land of Gnath. This mountain range indicated the border of Gotan and it was rightfully called 'the Wall' by the old settlers of the Kingdom of ice and snow. They believed that Far-Meh-La created it in order to protect the people of Gotan from the unknown horrors of the Land of Gnath.

Lady Tarralyanna pulled out a wooden board from her saddle bag and Lord Tammutyen brought a small box, grinning broadly.

"What is that?" Tyananna asked, turning away from the fantastic view.

"A game we like to play," Lady Tarralyanna said. "Sit; I shall explain the rules to you."

The wooden board was circular and circles of various colours were drawn on it, with Sith glyphs written inside each circle. There was a triangle painted red which occupied the centre.

"Here," Lady Tarralyanna said, tossing a small piece of rock she found underneath her feet at Tyananna, who caught it in the air, and turned it over to see what was so special about it. "That will represent you. Each player is one rock."

"You mean, pawn," Tyananna said in Albinian, suddenly reminded of an old Albinian game which was played on square boards, using carved figurines to represent the players.

"I am quite unfamiliar with the meaning of that word," Lady Tarralyanna said unconcernedly, grabbing the box from Tammutyen's hand.

"Now, this," she said, taking out what was in it, what turned out to be a small object made out of wood, with Sith numbers all over it, "is Plaph. We keep it in a box so that we would not misplace it – we already lost eight or nine of those and they are not easy to make."

"Ten," Lord Tammutyen growled, "You threw one at me and it got swallowed by a volcano."

"Right, ten," Lady Tarralyanna said cheerfully.

Tyananna took the Plaph in her hand and examined it. It was far more complicated than she first thought, because it was not shaped as a cube, as she expected it to be. It had twelve sides and all of them were equal; on each one of them there was a Sith number. Traditionally, Sith numbers were composed of dots and straight lines. If there was a vertical line, it meant that the dots around it were meant to be added, whereas a perpendicular line designated multiplication, something that was very useful with large digits. But the confusing part, for Tyananna, was that there were only three numbers – one, two, three. All other numbers were derived from the three, by the means of addition and multiplication. Obviously, most numbers could be written in many different ways, but the Sith preferred simplicity, and thus chose the simplest version of the number. The Plaph might have looked and sounded like a funny little thing to Tyananna, a play toy, but the truth was that it seemed terribly complicated to make. It would explain why the two have been counting the number of misplaced Plaph. But what puzzled Tyananna was – how was it made? Obviously it was very important that all sides were of the same size.

"It is a geometrical body," Lady Tarralyanna answered readily, when Tyananna asked her about that. "It represents the machinery of the world. We have twelve planets around Cyrron and Luth; and thus we have twelve sides of the Plaph. Each represents a planetary force, or an aspect of one's personality. It is a part of the game, as you will see."

"And the moons?" Tyananna asked. "Why not use the moons?"

"Because planetary forces are more powerful," Lady Tarralyanna said simply, putting the round board on the ground before her. "Horukaan's moons are too small to make a difference, but planetary forces are not to be ignored. You will find all of the planetary forces, in one way or the other, present in your personality."

"That is very interesting," Tyananna mused.

"It is also said that some planetary forces have been more present in all Sith than the other."

"Which ones?" Tyananna asked curiously.

"Well, R'Loth'Mat –" she started, but stopped as something occurred to her. "You _do_ know the names of planets in Sith, do you?"

Tyananna shook her head. She was still reading the book about the Caelian customs the Dark Lord gave her.

"Oh well. It is the third planet." Tyananna quickly nodded. "It represents will, stubbornness, defiance, passion for challenges, inner strength of character and courage; its negative sides would be self-destructiveness and inability to deal with failure. Then, there is Gah'Tyah, the eighth planet, which represents proneness to anger and passion for battle and conquest. Its negative sides would be fear, irrational hostility, inability to control one's emotions and to find any peace unless one is engaged in battle of some kind. You will note that these are the main predispositions for successfully controlling the Dark side and that we have all encountered its negative effects."

Tyananna nodded, fascinated.

"Then there is Pon'Yal, the first planet, representing thirst for knowledge," Lady Tarralyanna went on. "The desire to understand the universe and intellectual curiosity. Also in some cases one can notice the influence of Quah'Ree, the sixth planet, which represents creativity and love for art."

"I am pretty certain I have some of the characteristics you mentioned," Tyananna said thoughtfully.

"You can ask Master to analyse you," Lady Tarralyanna said.

"I would like that," Tyananna said, intrigued. "How is it done?"

"You must answer a series of questions, that is all," Lady Tarralyanna said. "But we did this when we were eighteen – perhaps Master has invented a different approach. By the way, how is your new tattoo? Does it itch?"

"How do you know I have one?" Tyananna asked, startled.

"You do not carry your M'Hoor on your back," Tarralyanna said smartly, winking at her. "Which is how any reasonable Sith would carry it. And I have seen you wince from time to time. I know you have not injured yourself during any of your trainings, because I was present as well, and therefore I must conclude you have a new tattoo."

"You are horrible!" Tyananna exclaimed, laughing. "Yes, I have a new one. But it still all bloody and strange, it does not seem to be healing at all."

"Shall we play now?" Lord Tammutyen asked.

As Lord Tammutyen was again looking at her in a way which made Tyananna exceedingly uncomfortable, she welcomed the change of subject. Lady Tarralyanna started explaining the rules of the game to her and Tyananna soon came to the conclusion that it was not a game of luck, but a game of logic. After two hours of playing the game, she was having a serious headache.

Tarralyanna and Tammutyen wanted her to play her lute for them and it was not exactly hard to persuade her. She took it out of its box, brushed her hands against her cloak and began to play it.

Tyananna began to play a mournful, dreamy suite, for which she was certain that it would appeal to the the two. Lady Tarralyanna seemed to enjoy it, judging by the way she moved her head in the rhythm of the music, whereas Lord Tammutyen merely stared without blinking at her, drinking in every tone Tyananna's fingers were producing. But to Tyananna, who was immersed in her task, her own music brought comfort and was there to remind her that some things would always be there for her, that some things never changed.

"I love the part when you keep your finger on one string for a while," Lady Tarralyanna sighed, motioning with her fingers. "Such a wonderful sound."

"Do you know what the music is about?" Lord Tammutyen asked seriously. He seemed to be sincerely touched with Tyananna's music.

"It is a... story about two lovers who were forbidden to see each other," Tyananna said confusedly.

"Really? I think each one of us has their own stories which would fit the music," he said, fascinated.

"I am flattered that I have managed to play music which inspired you," Tyananna said before she could stop herself. "It is an honour to be able to inspire people; and something I never experienced before, though I tried."

"Then people are blind and deaf," Lord Tammutyen said, staring fixedly at her.

Tyananna swallowed and looked down on her lute.

"This world of the Dark side seems to be the only world which makes sense to me," she said quietly, putting away her lute.

Lady Tarralyanna wanted to play the board game again, but upon the very thought Tyananna felt another headache coming and suggested to teach them a game which she often played at the Jedi Temple. The two Sith were delighted and Lord Tammutyen went to find suitable fruit which they could use instead of a ball. Tyananna explained them the rules and they caught on pretty quickly. She first threw the "ball" to Tammutyen, who readily caught it and threw it in her direction, looking delighted. However, he seemed to have miscalculated himself because their ball flew right over Tyananna's head and disappeared somewhere in the gorge. The two booed and shouted at him and Lady Tarralyanna went to fetch another fruit with which they could play. When the game was finally in full swing, Tyananna concluded that she was far better at the game than she used to be and that her new well-trained body was serving her exceedingly well.

Given that all the two Sith knew was training and combat it was understandable to expect them to take a similar approach to this game as well. Lady Tarralyanna happily performed flips before catching the ball and Lord Tammutyen sprinted after it and kicked it hard toward Tyananna. Whereas Tyananna mostly ducked to avoid getting hit instead of trying to catch the ball, Lord Tammutyen took a more aggressive approach to the matter and grabbed it no matter how close it was or how fast it was flying toward him. It was interesting to try out all of the things they ever learned while playing this game, mostly because they were not under pressure to do everything flawlessly. Lord Tammutyen jumped high and turned twice in the air whenever he scored and he was quite amusing to watch.

Thus if anyone would have been watching them play the game, he would have no idea the Sith were actually playing a game, because it certainly did not look that way. Each one of them considered winning as something they had to do no matter what and it more resembled strange competition than a game.

ooooooooooooooooooo

As darkness spilled over the world and the sun of Cyrron retreated to its celestial bed, the three Sith headed back to the Temple. The glowing, scarlet dot which was supposed to be Luth, or a rather poor memory of it, was slowly advancing toward west as well, rushing after his big sister to retreat for the next two weeks. For the first time, Tyananna witnessed the coming of the Fifth Season through the Dark side and it was something very different than what she had already felt and seen.

Within minutes it spilled over the sky and everything went ghostly quiet. Horukaan was transformed – all of the stars were gone, except for Heh'Glah, which now looked like an ordinary star, but was still there, as a last token of familiarity in this unfamiliar sky. This stillness spread like a disease through the watery mass which stretched toward the Third Continent and all movement ceased. The ocean licked the shores of the Empire of Larria for a few more times and then ceased moving. There was no more tide, as the faces of the moons of Horukaan lay hidden behind the powerful cloak of this new force which enveloped itself around it, and for once, the rhythmic turning of the wheel of life, as Tyananna called it, ceased. Was it resting? Or has it died?

The great meadows of the Land of Montague, once crowded with a hundreds of horses, now lay abandoned and silent, for all of the horses were locked up in the stables and were lying on their beds of hay, their eyes twinkling in horror as they felt a change take over the world. The shamans of the Second Continent were sitting beside their fires, speaking quietly and watching the skies. If Horukaan could speak, they asked themselves – what would it say? If they could see its face, the face of mother Horukaan, how it would look like? The Droddians of Mangora retreated into their mines and started feverishly making new weapons which had to be ready before the grand feast.

The Jedi accepted this as the way of the Force and went about their business as usual. But even the masters could not shake off the feeling of unease, which reminded them of the Dark side as they saw it. The disappearance of the three Jedi was still eating at every single Jedi living in the Temple and they felt that this time the Fifth Season also brought a hint of terror with it, which everyone could feel.

The Head of the Jedi Order, the great, wise Jedi master Quallath, a pureblood Albinian who was now eighty-three, caught himself aimlessly wandering through the Temple once all those Jedi who were sent in search for the missing three came back and reported to him. Their disappearance was a mystery, even he had to confess, the more with the fact that they were on a quest of finding master Bakku's imaginative Sith Lord. Master Quallath could not help himself but wonder whether it might have been true. Would he choose to believe these fairy tales, these strange stories of the coming of a new age, the age of Darkness, seeing omens in cloud patterns and the way the wind blew? Or would he shake his head and ignore this nonsense? The Force felt the same as ever; and yet at times he could feel a strange presence in it, which felt nothing more than a fleeting whisper. It was something strange he could not put a finger on. But he knew how the Dark side felt, or so he believed – and that was not it. By the time he passed by his own office for the third time, master Quallath reached a definite conclusion. Until he feels a hint of the Dark side – and he would most certainly be keeping his Force ears and eyes wide open – he would not act.

'_But the evil never sleeps; it merely watches from the shadows,'_ rang in his mind as he walked down the corridor, watching little Padawans eat through the large window. Just because he does not see it – does it mean it is not there? He read and reread all of the documents written since the beginning of the Great War, trying to put his finger on any observations which might correspond with his own, to pinpoint the source. There were a few matches – though he felt it was all too vague and insufficient. Standing so and staring at the innocent, laughing children eating their lunch, he was approached by a servant, one of the many who helped to keep the Temple clean and cooked for the Jedi.

"There are people wishing to see you, respected master Quallath," he said, bowing a little. "They are emissaries from the Oceanic Land of Caelia."

The master looked away from the window and nodded at him, telling the servant to bring the visitors to the council room while he hurried to summon the whole Jedi Council, sensing that the Caelians would either confirm his fears or not. But at last he would know.

"Greetings, Jedi masters," said the Caelian representative, who only now lowered his hood, when he entered the circular hall where all of the members of the Council were seated, staring at the newcomers.

The Caelians never, or on very special occasions, left their domain and came ashore on either of the Continents. The Caelian's white eyes were a sign that he was old, which was to be expected. His white hair was falling right down to the floor, adorned with strange Caelian crystals which reflected the light. His skin had a bluish tinge to it and it looked fragile, whereas his head was almost brushing off the ceiling of the circular room. His face was long and oval, as though it had been stretched. In fact, that was how their bodies looked like in general.

All of the Jedi stared at the Caelian in disbelief. As old as many of the members of the Council were, most of them have never seen a Caelian pureblood with their own eyes. The Caelian leader – for the rest of them stood behind him in silence, with their hoods still on – was dressed in long white robes which were traditional among the priests of the Fraternity of Caelia. He was carrying a beautiful staff with a milky-white orb at the top. He had no facial hair, including eyelashes and eyebrows, what was common for their race, and his white hair looked almost unnaturally straight. He wore several pendants which tinkled as he walked around his neck – this was insignia which denoted his status in the strict hierarchy of the Fraternity, the Jedi knew. The Caelians had no king, queen, or any ruler at all. Instead, the White Fraternity took care of important matters and brought decisions. However, as they were not a race which strived toward wealth and as they kept to themselves, there was no need for radical action. They had no money and they did not trade; instead, they shared all they had among themselves and considered everything as the property of everyone. The accumulation of wealth was considered shameful and disgraceful among the Caelians.

This Caelian, the Jedi noted, judging by the pendants he wore around his neck and the colour of the hem of his robes, was probably one of the higher-ranking priests of the White Fraternity of Caelia.

"My designation is Lannthalthedre," the Caelian said, his white eyes sweeping the room and making the Jedi shudder, for it seemed as though he was blind. "I am the Fourth Qwoo of the White Fraternity of Caelia."

"Please sit down, Your Eminence. We welcome you to our Temple," master Quallath said promptly, pointing at one of the many armchairs which have been quickly dragged to the council room so that the guests could have a place to sit. When the Jedi spoke to the Caelians throughout history, only the Qwoos visited them. They have never seen any priest ranking higher than a Qwoo, though, as the Caelians revealed to them, there were quite a few. Qwoos spoke all languages spoken on Horukaan, they knew a lot about different cultures and were sent on errands, when they were necessary, to act as spokespeople for the whole of Caelia.

Without a word, the other Caelian priests swept past the Qwoo and seated themselves. It was only then the Jedi realised they were women. They were curious, beyond doubt, for none of them have ever been to dry land, especially the younger ones, and they seemed to be studying the Jedi, what was making them very uncomfortable. The Caelian priestesses wore what looked like feathers in their hair, large beads around their necks, according to the size and colour of which, the Jedi supposed, one could tell their rank. They, however, wore their white or blonde hair (depending on their age, because their hair, just like their eyes, was getting whiter with age) wrapped up in large buns atop of their heads, reminding the Jedi of vanilla puddings.

"Our arrival undoubtedly took you by surprise," the Qwoo said, putting his staff away, crossing his very long, thin legs, hidden under layers and layers of shining white robes. "But perhaps our visit is a little tardy."

"Something very important sends you here, Your Eminence," the Jedi master said, now feeling that indeed all of his worst fears are about to be confirmed.

"Indeed," the Caelian said placidly. "Our House of Diviners has seen things which have been deemed important for humans – and thus we departed to share their readings with you. We rarely meddle in human affairs. But so it has been decided."

Why is it, master Quallath asked himself, that the Caelians act as though they have all the time in the world? If I lived four hundred years, perhaps I might act likewise, he thought.

"The Fifth Season brings something more to this world than absence of light," the Caelian spoke slowly. "It brings the clouds of ruin and pain. It brings destruction."

"Do you perhaps speak about the Dark side?" Quallath asked at once. The Jedi exchanged glances. Their Head of the Order certainly seemed to get straight to the point today.

"We give no names to forces," the Caelian replied vaguely. "The Diviners have seen a Tower of Ruin; they have seen blood moistening the soil of Horukaan. And the danger lies in you. You are the ones who need to ask yourselves what is happening with the world – and only when you choose to accept whatever is coming your way, you will see the truth."

"We most certainly appreciate your visit and your good will, but we need something more specific than that," master Quallath remarked. The Caelians liked to speak in riddles, everyone knew that, but this time they were not welcome. This is a serious matter, he thought, and I do not have time for this.

"What should we do?" he asked.

"The knight of Light should be patient," the Caelian said, obviously meaning master Quallath, and waving with a frighteningly long-fingered hand without a single nail. "The truth cannot be comprehended by impatience. This your riddle to solve, not ours."

"But you came here to tell me about it," master Quallath said shrewdly. "So you must intend to do more than just tell me about it, or else you might have sent a messenger and spared yourselves the trouble of travelling."

"You are correct," the Caelian said, looking mildly impressed with master Quallath's deduction. "We are to remain here until we are able to offer you details you might use for immediate action. Divination concerning such, for you, serious matters, should be best done in your own domain and not in ours."

"Well, I am very grateful for that, Your Eminence," master Quallath said, palpably relieved.

Now the Jedi could understand why the priestesses who came with him looked so very different than the Qwoo. Naturally all Caelians dressed the same, whether they were women or men, it did not matter. It only mattered to which Office or House they belonged to. The priestesses were Diviners. Different Offices had their own clothing preferences, with the help of which they recognised each other, and the Diviners were dressed in light blue robes. As it was a known fact that there were no mixed Caelian Offices, the Jedi concluded that the House of Diviners was a female Office.

"We shall adapt to your domain," the Caelian said, suddenly rising. "And you need not to worry about our comfort."

The Caelian obviously knew that humans liked to accommodate their guests the best they could, and honoured guests as they were, they knew that the Jedi would most certainly give their best to do so. However, master Quallath knew that they considered luxury of any kind, food, drink or clothing, disgraceful, and that they shunned it at all costs.

"Kindly give us an hour to prepare your chambers," master Quallath said, rising from his chair as well.

The Caelian nodded, what looked more like an attempt to avoid colliding with the large chandelier which hung dangerously close to his head, and swept from the room with dignity, in a long, slow pace. As soon as they were out, the Jedi burst into talk.

"Matters are graver than we thought, apparently, if Caelia chose to meddle in," master Quallath said.

"What is it, that the Force cannot see, master?" asked an old, round Malaskian half-blood Jedi master, looking up at him.

"It cannot Divine, it cannot tell us the future," master Quallath said gravely. "But perhaps there was a person who could hear the Force speak about the future after all. Master Bakku."

His eyes wandered around the room, until they settled down on his feet. This felt like his own personal defeat, his short-sightedness, and he did not know what else to say, but to regret that master Bakku was gone. He went in search for a secret – perhaps he found it and had to die for it.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Across Horukaan, the Sith were getting ready for a ceremony held in honour of the Dark side. Tyananna was given a strange robe she was told she should wear for the ceremony and for once she put it on without problems. It was wide and made of some flowing material resembling silk which made the robes very comfortable to wear. As all clothes worn by the Sith, it was black and the only thing that was different about it was the fact that the hem was silver. Tyananna noted that Peetah had also sewn her name in Sith on one of the sleeves using a silver thread.

Wearing such wide clothes Lord Tammutyen looked bigger than ever, whereas Lady Tarralyanna merely looked elegant. Her eyes twinkling, she grabbed Tyananna by the sleeve impatiently and told her to hurry, because the Dark Lord was already waiting for them in the Temple.

Tyananna was in the beginning uncertain what this Temple was, but she at once recognised the room where she once meditated with the Dark Lord. She grinned. As soon as Lady Tarralyanna knocked loudly on the door, they all heard an answering knock from the depths of the Temple, which meant that the Dark Lord was ready and was waiting for them. They stepped inside, with Tyananna following Lord Tammutyen and again trying not to trip over her robes.

The Temple itself looked quite different this time. It was very warm inside as fire was burning in dozens and dozens of steel bowls hanging from the ceiling. A welcoming, mysterious scent permeated the Temple and Tyananna breathed in deeply. She loved that incense. What was it?

There was a large black bowl adorned with red jewels which were glittering ominously in the middle of the Temple, but there was no fire in it. Behind it, steps lead up to a veil in front of which stood the Dark Lord with a staff in his left hand. Tyananna had no idea the Dark Lord had a staff – she thought it was a Caelian thing. But as she looked more closely, it became apparent that a flame was steadily burning on the top of his staff – a black flame. Tyananna knew what that was and she wished she could see it up close. She knew that the Dark Lord brought the famous Black Flame from the Land of Gnath with him, but as it was burning atop of his tower, she had no idea how it looked like from up close.

The Dark Lord, who stood still as the three Sith approached him and came to a stand behind the black bejewelled bowl, watched them without a word. Now, however, he descended the steps leading up to the veil and lifted his staff.

"We are here to honour the changing of the Seasons," he said. "And to celebrate the power of the Dark side. Gather round."

The three of them spread around the bejewelled bowl and Tyananna stared at it. It was too high for her to see what was in it, but as the Dark Lord lifted his staff and gently inclined it toward the bowl, it sprang to life. A little uncertain whether she should back away, she threw a surreptitious glance at Lady Tarralyanna, who stood with her hands crossed before her and watched without blinking. So Tyananna concluded it was all right. When she next looked up, she noted that the bejewelled bowl now contained a beautiful black fire, which however did not behave like a normal fire. It simply burned steadily and did not flicker or move about as it was the case with ordinary fire. Fascinated, she stared at it and concluded with surprise that the black fire was not emitting heat.

"The beginning of a new year denotes the beginning of a new cycle," the Dark Lord said. Tyananna looked around herself and noted that the four of them stood in a circle surrounding the black fire and she felt proud at the fact she was standing there as one of them. "But the Fifth Season has always been celebrated as something special among the Sith. The whole world withdraws into their safe cocoons and hides before it. It is something the world does not understand and it fills people with dread. But the Sith love challenges and we do not run and hide. We stay and fight."

"After centuries of sleep, the Dark side has made its first move," he went on in an impressive voice. "The dragon has woken from its long sleep. This is the beginning of a great war and we must prepare ourselves for it."

He closed his eyes and lifted his arms. Tyananna watched, transfixed. When he next spoke, Tyananna understood what he once meant when he said that he was 'the voice of Darkness on this world'. His voice did not sound like his own and Tyananna felt as though her every cell vibrated as he spoke.

"I am a dragon which has awoken. I am the rumble from the depths and the cry from the heights. I am power, beauty and knowledge. I am Darkness; and my power is immeasurable. Let my power be yours."

"Join hands," he whispered next.

To Tyananna's right side, Lady Tarralyanna reached out for her hand whereas Lord Tammutyen grabbed her left hand. When the circle was complete, the black flame soared high and Tyananna held her breath. Tyananna never felt more like a part of the Sith Order than now. She could feel something strange coursing through her and she stared at the flame as though hypnotised. The very air seemed to be crackling with power.

"I, the incarnate Dark Lord of the Sith," the Dark Lord went on loudly, "today and here swear again, together with my apprentices, that I shall execute the will of the Dark side to rule Horukaan. I shall be the scourge of the Dark side on this world and I shall destroy all those who dare to cross our path and hinder us. Our will shall be done."

Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen repeated the last sentence and Tyananna hastened to do the same. Oaths seemed to be a serious matter in the Sith Order but Tyananna felt joy at giving this particular oath. She was not certain she was ready for war, but she was certain where she wanted to be when the war broke out – standing beside the Dark Lord.

"And now, my apprentices," the Dark Lord said, as he let go of Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen. His eyes were twinkling. "Let us go after our duties again. And while everyone trembles in fear before the Fifth Season, the servants of Darkness work. For we know no fear."


	39. Chapter 38 - Part Three

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

starwarsfan2296: thanks! Feedback means a lot to me since this is also a fantasy FF. :)

In this (long :) ) chapter we can take a peek at the preparations for war all across the world. I'm sorry I haven't uploaded it before, but I find a few logic errors in every chapter and I have to reread and check everything. Not to mention work on my other FF in German... Enjoy reading!

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXXVIII – The Lost Land of Gehoor

In Gangar, the red land of geysers, a very busy morning dawned. At the time when Cyrron would normally rise, the great Chief Growthak was talking quietly to the four of his Seniors. They were bending over a scroll of parchment bearing a black seal, which Chief Growthak broke when he received the scroll.

"Great Chief," spoke a voice behind their backs. Chief Growthak looked up, his sword swinging around with him in this sudden movement. Seven warriors stood a little away from him and saluted to him in a typical Droddian fashion – fist clenched and quickly pressed against one's chest, as a sign of readiness for battle.

"The battalion from Urma has arrived," said one. "We stand at your command."

The other warriors confirmed the arrival of their own battalions and the Chief nodded at them, pointing a finger toward the door.

"I am still waiting for the troops from the north," he said. "But when they come, assemble your men before the city walls – I wish to speak to you there."

"Very good, my Chief," said the warriors, departing.

They had too many questions to ask; but they also knew better than to ask them now. They picked their way through the hall packed with people, with many Seniors sitting at a large rough wooden table, gulping down wine and bending over a large map of Gangar, discussing something heatedly.

It was well after lunchtime when the troops from the north arrived and they assembled in front of the city walls. Chief Growthak rode out on his horse, holding a spear with the skull of a Banzzor bear perched atop of it in his hand, the token of his power, bearing all of his insignia and battle souvenirs, as it was a custom. As he passed through the streets, people who stood on the side of it sank to the ground. They could not remember the last time their Chief dressed like that. His Seniors rode behind him in twos, looking very serious. The guards on duty stood aside as their chief strode past them, ascending the stairs which led up. When he arrived to the top, he placed his filthy dark-skinned hands on the stone and looked down on the assembled warriors.

Thousands and thousands of Droddians stood silent, staring up; but everyone got to their knees as the figure of Chief Growthak loomed up in sight. He glanced over what was once a silent arid valley before his city, which was now dotted with warriors, giving the impression of an army of ants. Chief Growthak has never led a war before, a real war, but it seemed that he would get his chance now. The thought filled him with pride. And he would fight well. For the glory of Gangar. He would show Horukaan and the Dark Lord just how many brave warriors he had.

"Warriors of Gangar!" he yelled. His words easily reached the the last lines of assembled warriors.

"Armies were once rallied for the sake of defence, so that we could defend our land from impostors. But now armies have been rallied because of war. Gangar is going to war!"

This sentence echoed the valley like the bang of a mallet. The warriors, of course, had no idea why their Chief summoned them all here, what he did perhaps a few times throughout his long rule, only for the sake of defence. However, after the impostors learned that they could not put one toe across his border and live, for Chief's armies have slaughtered everything and everyone in their way, they began to avoid Gangar.

"What can an honourable warrior do, if challenged? What can he say, if he has been called to war?" the Chief asked the warriors, who all stared up at their brave ruler with their eyes round, wondering what was he talking about.

"A new dawn has come." His voice was now grave and deep. He made a pace sideways, thus exposing to a glance his wonderfully crafted mace which glowed in the light of hundreds of torches which have been put everywhere to allow this meeting to take place in the darkness of the Fifth Season, the long night.

"I have news to share with you, my people, my brave warriors of Gangar. The Dark Lord of the Sith has arisen again."

The warriors broke out in murmur, but it was only understandable. The Chief turned to his Seniors, who shrugged at him, but stared back in expectation nevertheless. What would he say? How would he deliver the news to his people and tell them that this was his decision, that he promised their lives and Gangar blood to the Dark Lord?

"The Dark Lord called Gangar to war," he went on in a powerful voice. "To go to war with him, as his allies, as honourable warriors who would bring him victory. Or... to burn our land to ashes, to curse it; to strike it with his rage and leave none alive."

The eyes of the Droddian warriors below were now round and fearful, but they did not dare to say anything or allow their shock to show – because, after all, fear was a disgrace for a Droddian warrior. Instead, they stared up at their ruler in hope that he might have a solution to these terrible news. They looked up at him, asking for leadership, for guidance, but also, for protection. Chief Growthak always had an answer to everything and a remedy for all – and it seemed as though he had an answer now as well.

"You have all seen his rage descend months ago!" he thundered on, his chest quivering as he shouted. "You have seen the finger of the Dark side descend and curse his enemies! Our land, however, was spared, because we are not his foes."

Another wave of murmur. Now they began to understand. The horrible tremors, the thunder, the dark clouds descending, the tornado sweeping the land – that was the rage of the Dark Lord. Of course, Chief Growthak knew it had something to do with the Dark Lord, because he confirmed it in his letter to him. And he was more inclined to believe this explanation than think that Rennokh, the celestial warrior, had something to do with it. He was not a man easily manipulated by superstitions and beliefs and he never allowed fear to cloud his vision. However, he knew that his people believed in the power of Rennokh and that they feared his rage. And Chief Growthak respected their belief.

"We do not hide like rabbits in burrows," he went on. "We do not tremble in fear when called to war! I said that we would fight along his side and show the world how the brave hearts of the warriors of Gangar beat! That we would be ten times as worthy as the rest of his army! And that we would bring him victory!"

Such a speech might have sounded strange and would have caused many raised Albinian eyebrows; but among Droddians, it was the right thing to say. The thousands of warriors standing in front of the city walls now broke into roars, taking out their maces and thumping the ground with them. The Chief's Seniors watched, transfixed, fascinated with the reaction of the people, and looked at their ruler with respect – he knew how to speak to them and he knew how to stir the already too hot blood coursing through their veins.

"GANGAR IS GOING TO WAR!" yelled the Chief, uplifting his arms, holding his own mace in his hand and brandishing it. "BUT THIS TIME, ON THE SIDE OF THE VICTORIOUS! MAY THE BLOODY DAWN COME! WE SHALL AVENGE THE BLOOD OF ALL BRAVE WARRIORS WHO DIED IN THE SECOND AGE! AND EVERYONE WILL TREMBLE IN FEAR UPON THE MENTION OF THE WARRIORS OF THE RED LAND OF GANGAR! THE LAND OF BLOOD!"

The explosion was tumultuous. The Seniors were now brandishing their own maces and roaring along with the crowd beneath them, whereas the warriors now saw someone in their ruler who was offering them a chance to march to victory. For declining to partake in a battle was considered to be cowardice by the Droddian race; and that, along with an offer to reap lives as vengeance for all those who perished in the Second Age, the most gruesome massacre the world has ever heard of, seemed to be a great gift indeed, for whichever reason they were given this chance to go to war. The heated warrior blood has already been boiling for far too long.

The Chief looked up to the dark skies above them, the walls and towers of his fortress glowing red in the light of the torches. To a Droddian, it looked as though the brave hearts of warriors were so hungry for war, that they were now on fire; that they were ready to tear the skies apart and show the world what they could do, to give a battle cry which would echo the whole of Horukaan and shake the bones of their forefathers which were resting in the noble soil of Gangar, make them rise from their underground beds and charge along with them.

oooooooooooooooooo

On what was once a sunlit, glowing vastness of meadows and bushes, something similar was taking place. The silent countryside was awakening; the ground began to quiver underneath the many dozens of hooves which approached their destination, riding through the darkness. Horse-breeders and land owners, or fillanyi, as the people of Montague referred to them, set off to meet a fellow nobleman, taking only their most trusted associates and workmen with them, not to rouse suspicion by showing up in great numbers.

Three Montague Albinians, the very three who signed the treaty with the Dark Lord, stood with their arms crossed on their chests in front of the large, roofless, one-floor mansion, as it was a custom of building in Montague, greeting the newcomers. They were waiting for everyone to arrive before they spoke to them. The Dark Lord requested something they could give him – cavalry, and it would be the best cavalry Horukaan has seen yet. Archers would come from all parts of land and Gimya Arnthok, the fillanyi and nobleman who signed the treaty, the tallest of the three, with bright blue eyes which were as sharp as a hawk's, chose very carefully who his confederates would be. Having spent the whole of his life breeding horses and selling them, he knew everything about other noblemen, their families, their roots and their capabilities. He was well respected among the people and the land and the business, which he inherited from his father and he from his father, made him a very rich and influential man.

Once he signed the treaty, he sat and brooded over what was to be done, how to rally an army which would please the Dark Lord. He chose the best of the best of horse-breeders and summoned them to his mansion, along with their workmen, families and companions. For those who took care of horses were not just stable-boys. They were archers and the archers of Montague were renowned for their precision and were famous for their long bows which were made of the highly elastic but firm wood of the trees of Yaka, which mostly grew in valleys where there was plenty of sweet water.

Some of the fillanyi knew about the Dark Lord, for Gimya revealed the secret to them and took them to Gotan to see him for themselves. They witnessed his power and could not forget that one bloody display of it. Thus the last thing they wanted to do was to displease him.

In twos and threes the fillanyi of Montague rode in through the tall wooden gate on the Arnthok property, their Yaka bows protruding from their quivers, and this silent procession lasted for perhaps five hours. When the last visitors arrived and went inside, Gimya and his two companions followed them, locking the entrance door behind them.

He glanced over the deadly serious fillanyi who stared back at him, trying to decide what to say. Obviously they expected some sort of a speech from him.

"This does not bring me any more joy than it does to you," he said at last. "But I have considered the alternative and I had to do this before I signed the treaty. There are no alternatives, my friends. The Great War of the Second Age scarred our land and killed our forefathers; and I am sure that no one likes to reminiscence. But last time we stood on the wrong side. I have seen the Dark Lord and some of you have been there with me – and I chose not to try to fight him. Not because of my own selfish reasons; not because I am a coward. But because I am thinking about our children; about the future of our land; and about the legacy of our forefathers, which would be lost, if he directed his rage at us. I am thinking about the future – and I am sacrificing the present for it."

He looked down on his feet and nodded at his companions, who stood right behind him, and who nodded back, expressing their support.

"Not all of you agree with me, I know," he went on. "And perhaps some of you resent me for deciding for all of you. But the emissaries came to me; and whoever I am, it is of no importance. I had the chance to make a decision which would affect all of us and I made it. I shall bear with your resentment and hatred, for the greater good."

Such a speech softened the fillanyi, who resented him for signing the treaty, and they stared at him with greater respect. It was true; they tried to put themselves in his shoes – what would they have done? Probably the same. But the question remains – why did the emissaries come to him? They could have come to any other fillanyi, but they chose Gimya Arnthok. Perhaps because he was one of the richest fillanyi? Or perhaps because he was the fillanyi who was as hard-working and brilliant as he was greedy for power and riches? What was it really, that the Dark Lord promised him? For they did not know and all they could was to speculate. But did it matter, if it comes to war? If it comes to war, they would all be in trouble.

"Now, I have summoned all those I know I can trust," Gimya went on with a shuddering sigh, as though this burden was literally pressing against his lungs. "And I have asked of all of you to come up with a digit of able archers who could be included in the army and which you would share with us on this meeting."

A fillanyi in the first row lifted a hand and shouted:

"Three hundred, Liege Arnthok!"

Gimya looked gratefully at him for answering his question first, and then looked expectantly at the man sitting beside him.

"A hundred," he answered. "I suffered great losses after the horse-plague two years ago. But I can rally able archers from my brother's land – two hundred in number. We would lack horses, however."

"That can easily be taken care of," Gimya said delightedly, not trying to hide his relief. "Can those lads be trusted?"

"Liege Arnthok, those lads are the best archers I have ever seen," said the fillanyi enthusiastically. "They are very young and beyond doubt they would be keen on showing their talent. As for holding their silence, I am certain that they would be honoured if I called them, that my trust would flatter them, and would hold their tongues. My brother is not overly appreciative of their skill, you see. That is yet another mitigating circumstance."

"Excellent," Gimya said. "I shall leave that to you, then."

The role-call lasted for perhaps one hour, after what Gimya sank into silence.

"Three thousand," he said quietly, more to himself. "The Land of Montague is vast; I fear that the Dark Lord shall not be pleased with the number."

His confederates felt sorry for him. The rage of the Dark Lord would of course first be directed at him, as he was the one who signed the treaty. He did not ask to be singled out or chosen to sign the treaty. It just happened to be so and this was his cross to bear. Some of them might have thought that he had a secret agenda, but the tone of his voice and the worried expression on his face dispersed their doubts. Whoever would offer to put his own head under the blade of a sword? Whatever they thought of him, that he was arrogant and presumptuous, sometimes cruel to his neighbours and to those inferior to him, now seemed quite unimportant.

"What about the Agarion family?" asked one. All eyes turned upon him.

The Agarion family was the royal family which basically ruled the land, told the fillanyi what to do, with whom to make business, and set up taxes on the horses and their sale.

"Do you really think they can be trusted?" Gimya asked gravely, shaking his head which was now hanging between his knees.

"With all respect, Liege Arnthok," said one, "what can they do? Can they execute the whole three thousand of us? What would they accomplish with that?"

Gimya looked up at him with a strange thoughtful look on his face. Suddenly his expression turned from thoughtful to determined.

"I have an idea," he said, straightening up. "Undoubtedly you will not like it. But it is the only way out."

"We kill the head of family and establish our own rule," said one. "We overthrow them."

Gimya's eyes twinkled. Exactly what he thought.

"It is a daring move," said another.

"But it is our only chance," said one. "It is true; they cannot execute the whole three thousand of us, but they can execute the leaders, namely us. And if that happens... the Sith Lord would not be pleased either."

"No," Gimya said thoughtfully, suddenly remembering something. "But did you know that the King of the Land of Quentaa almost got dethroned?"

Everyone stared at him, wondering at this sudden change of topic.

"He was perhaps one of the first allies of the Sith Lord," Gimya went on, filled with sudden relief. "And as he got word from him that he would be dethroned and executed, he sent two of his... students to settle the matter. I have no idea how they accomplished that, but he is back on his throne and peace reigns his land. But there it is. If it gets really ugly, we can always ask for help."

"Do you think he would help us?" someone asked hopefully.

"I think he would," Gimya said thoughtfully. "We are his allies in the Land of Montague. If we go down, so does his hope of rallying an army here; and he would have to start all over again. And this is why I am trying so very hard to meet his expectations, his standards. Now, where were we?"

"The Agarion family," said one. "But we do not need to kill the head of the family – we could only lock him up. That way we would not shed any more blood than it would be absolutely necessary."

"Well, what is all the fuss? There are many of us," said another sitting beside him, a squat Albinian with a cruel smile. "Why do we not gather and attack their mansion in the middle of the night? We would have the element of surprise to our avail; and as many guards as they might have, they would not sleep with their swords in their beds, would they?"

Many laughed and Gimya smiled.

"Do you know," he said slowly, passing with his tongue over his lips, "that is a good plan. If we succeed, we shall take their horses and take command of their men. The outsiders do not need to know why we are doing this – it would merely seem as an expression of disagreement with their politics and that would be reasonable enough, considering everything that happened in the past few years."

Everyone laughed again and looked at Gimya with approval. Many heads began to nod and the majority seemed to be pleased with this solution.

"Well," Gimya said, jumping to his feet with an air of a man who just decided on something very important. "How about this? Let us found a fellowship – we are all in this, after all, and all of us shall benefit from this daring move, if we manage to take down the Agarion family. Let each man take an equal share of what we come to possess and we shall all go to war, if with nothing else, with our pockets fuller than they were."

The fillanyi broke into a tumultuous applause and cheers and everyone got to their feet. Fifty-three hands reached out for Gimya's.

"How shall we call it?" Gimya asked.

"Why not..." said one, "'the Fellowship of the Horse-Lords'?"

"Excellent!" Gimya cried, nodding at the general exclamations of approval. He looked down on the intertwined hands of the Montague horse-breeders. "The Fellowship has been founded. May it bring salvation and peace to our land!"

"Hear, hear!" everyone roared, punching the air with their fists. The meeting, Gimya thought, could not have been more fruitful. Everything seemed to be going in the right direction.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

The Droddians of Mangora were not having any second thoughts about the participation in the war. Those who had, the supporters of Jedi, were quickly executed by Ruthok, before they could jeopardise the entire operation by going to the Jedi and every hint of rebellion against his will was quickly smothered. Therefore another very busy Fifth Season day dawned in Mangora. The Droddians were making new weapons, as it was a custom, but now even more diligently than before. At last, Mangora would have its vengeance – and nothing else mattered. Centuries of slavery to the Jedi brought their already hot blood to boiling state. It was slavery, Ruthok said, for the mines with the Jalá ore once belonged to Mangora, before they were given over to the Jedi. Mangora was a land which was far too small and its population was not so large, to rebel against this injustice. It stretched across many not so easily approachable hills and the Droddians lived mostly underground.

They traded and earned gold that way, but it was a despicable life compared to what they might have, if they still possessed the mines with the Jalá ore. And Ruthok, more than anyone else, hated the Jedi with every inch of his Droddian heart and he never tried to hide it. He did not want, however, to start a war against all of the neighbouring provinces and thus endanger his people. Thus the whole of Mangora, except for the children, would be going to war. And at last, they would have revenge.

ooooooooooooooooo

The situation was not so straightforward in Flotharr. One of the Chiefs was sitting on a rock in front of his home, whereas his wife and children were in the garden on the other side of the house, picking apples, and it was well they could not see his face. For it was lined with worry they knew nothing about. He was staring in the distance, in the darkness beyond his home, lost in thought.

"Are we disturbing you, good Chief?" asked a voice behind his back.

He turned and his expression softened at once. Three of his countrymen were staring in worry at him and he beckoned to them. They approached him in silence, sitting down next to him. Chiefs were addressed and treated with respect, but nothing more. They had to be approachable by the people and they had to have time for all of their troubles and worries, be ready to give advice or just be good listeners and Gon-Gah happily fulfilled such duties. He kept his Jedi name, because after all the years he spent in the Jedi Temple he could not imagine himself being called by any other name.

"I have to act," he said quietly, brushing his hands against his simple brown pants – the people of Flotharr always dressed modestly. "Soon. He is expecting an answer."

"We had no idea you were acquainted with one of the students of the Sith Lord, Chief," said one.

Gon-Gah knew it would come to this and that they were bound to ask questions. Until now they have not posed this question but Gon-Gah could see it in their eyes.

"She used to be a Jedi, like me," he said.

His past was a topic which could not be exhausted. The people of Flotharr were curious about the Jedi and nagged him to tell them stories about the Jedi and what they did.

"She was a good Jedi; talented, very Force-sensitive, always adhering to rules. She was very helpful when approached and of cheerful, serene nature. That is why I was so surprised to see her there."

"What must happen to a person," said one thoughtfully, almost sadly, "to make her cross over to the Dark side? To immerse herself in evil?"

"It is my presumption," Gon-Gah said with a sigh, "that she saw too much evil. Master Waak-Lin was murdered – she told me so herself. He was her best friend and they were inseparable. And to see your best friend murdered – and possibly, tortured – would be something that would break a good person such as she was, who believed in a good cause and always honoured the Jedi laws, working for the people and helping them. This would break her indeed."

"And we are to help this... monster... to take control of our colony?" asked one in surprise. There was resentment and anger in his voice though Gon-Gah knew he did not resent him personally. He rather resented the very existence of the Sith.

"My teacher always used to say that anger was the path to the Dark side," Gon-Gah said softly, looking at him with a warning in his eyes. By saying this, he was fulfilling his role as the Chief of his county and the man quickly understood what he wanted to tell him, nodding. Gon-Gah's expression darkened.

"I am not enthusiastic about it, you must know. But I can see further than the good-natured people of Flotharr, who have never seen death and who have never felt pain. They live simple, peaceful lives, and they are not troubled by anything beyond them. They know nothing of war and terror, nothing of destruction; and this is how our beautiful colony would look like if the rage of the Sith Lord was unleashed at directed at us. You have seen it; you have felt it. Would you want it to destroy your children, your families? To destroy your homes and all that you accomplished here? To put an end to the peace and the tranquillity of the villages and replace it with despair and sorrow?"

"Do not speak so, good Chief," cried one. "It sounds horrible!"

"It _is_ horrible," Gon-Gah said quietly. "But just because you do not know it, because you cannot imagine it even, I am here to tell you what can happen. I am here to make this hard decision of an alliance with the Sith Lord. And may all curses of the good people of Flotharr fall on me – I shall do what I must."

"You are not alone in this, Chief," said the man, whose eyes were now moist. "We cannot understand; but we trust you completely. We trust your judgement."

"Thank you," Gon-Gah said with feeling. "Your words are a balm to my soul."

He looked away from him and directed his glance at the darkness ahead of them, where only a week ago one could see pink mist hovering over the outlines of hills beyond the county like a bride's veil.

"You might trust me and believe that I am acting in the best interest of the people," he said quietly, "but not many will share your trust. They will hate me and curse me. But may it be so; I know my duty. I am doing this for the good of our colony; I am doing this because you are far too chaste in your hearts, like children, to ever understand what could happen if we decided to fight against the Sith Lord. For even if we declare ourselves neutral in the war, the Sith Lord would see us as enemies and would destroy us."

Silence fell on them and the three Flotharrians thought about this, feeling sorry for their Chief and marvelling at his courage. He could preach (as it was a custom for Chiefs to speak and preach once in a week, on Sabbath days); he could offer advice to confused women and men who did not dare to speak of their problems to anyone else but him; but he could also sacrifice all of his good reputation and all he accomplished for their own good without a flinch. To them, this was the very ideal of goodness of heart and they decided they would support him in all that he did, without questions.

"We are no warriors and the Sith Lord knows that," he went on. "We cannot make a contribution he needs to his army. But that, what he requested of me, we can do. He wants us to build catapults and prepare food for his army. The few of us who can fight shall go to war. I am very grateful for that – for at least the whole colony would not perish in war."

"I have only ever killed a rabbit which kept eating my cabbage three months ago," said one, shaking his head. "And I felt sorry for the poor animal. But it could not have been done any other way. I have done it with a knife; but I have never held a sword in my hands."

"I shall teach you," Gon-Gah said gravely. "That is yet another idea I had. You must learn how to fight, to hold a sword and use it – or it will be used against you."

"Have you ever killed anyone while you were a Jedi?" his companions asked.

"Never," Gon-Gah said, disgusted. "We practised battle skills – but that is all. Killing is not the Jedi way. One does not need to kill in order to know how to fight."

"I do not know whether I would be able to do it, when the time comes," said one.

"Do not worry about that yet, because there is still time," Gon-Gah said, patting him on the shoulder.

"I cannot help myself not to feel sorry for Larynthe," he said, the thought of her coming back to him, over and over again.

Luxurious black robes, jewels and gold, which were undoubtedly a gift from the Sith Lord, did not fit her the least and they made her look ugly, in his opinion. What was once beautiful brown hair has been transformed into a long, red mane, which looked unnatural and Gon-Gah thought it was a rather poor attempt to hide her own serene and non-violent nature and blend in with the Sith, to please her Master. She laughed at him; she laughed at his attempt to figure out why she was there and at his brave attempts to reach out to her, to try to bring back the Larynthe he used to know. But what hurt him the most was when she turned to him and announced that she would take them to the Sith Lord. 'My master', she said. And Gon-Gah could not forget her tone. She was proud of the fact she was his apprentice and she wanted to emphasise it.

Gon-Gah shook his head and passed the wine on to his companions. His wife made it only a few months ago.

"I think of her and see a laughing, cheerful Jedi knight who loved poetry. I wish there was something I could do to save her. I wish I could help her," he said.

He straightened up and sighed, putting down his earthen cup.

"But it is too late for her," he said. "The Sith Lord has her. The master-apprentice relationships among the Sith, as it seems to me, do not work in the same way the Jedi ones do. She belongs to him, like a piece of meat, and she has to obey him, no matter what he says. But she worships him – I have seen it in her eyes. I have felt it when she knelt beside him, when she brought us to him. There was a smile on her face when he waved her away – he did it as though she was nothing more but a piece of dirt – that told me no part of the old Larynthe I once knew is left."

"His apprentices worship him as though he was some sort of a god," said one with disgust.

"But to them, he is a god, I suppose," Gon-Gah said. "You have felt and seen his power. What if he used such power on you, every day, and forced you to obey him? Would you not become an obedient sheep? I know that every human being would break in the end. But I, for one, if broken with sorrow and misery like that, would not be wearing an expression of admiration my old friend wore when she looked at him. No; she has not been forced to worship him, even if she was forced to obey him. And it makes me wonder, what was it that made her accept her new fate and the Sith Lord as her new master? What made her forget all that she once knew and embrace the Dark side?"

ooooooooooooooooooo

The rallying of the Dark armies assumed a different shape in the Empire of Larria. Banners of mourning hung on the yard-arms of the Empress's ships and in front of her mansion, which was suddenly quiet and empty. Caelians – or half-Caelians, in her case – do not die as easily, but there was nothing which would appoint to murder. There was no wound, no strangling marks, nothing out of ordinary. The poison which the shipbuilder, who went by the name of Plátaa, managed to put in her morning tea, had an immediate effect. Her heart stopped beating at once and there were no traces of the poison anywhere, as Plátaa hurried to take her cup, destroy it and replace it with an identical one, with tea leaves dregs at the bottom of it. He had no accomplice, however – for he did not trust a soul and even if he did, no one except for him had access to the Imperial mansion.

But now, in the aftermath of the great tragedy which shook the Empire of Larria, as their beloved Empress was gone, Plátaa suddenly felt inspired and started constructing new ships. To some it might have looked like an attempt to make himself appear as a better candidate for the position of the emperor. But as some pointed out this to him, he shook his head sadly and said: "Oh, you poor people. You are so hungry for power that you cannot see clearly! I cannot find any peace anywhere except in my study, where I make sketches for new ships. Work makes me forget about this tragedy and that I am now missing a friend and a sovereign I spent my whole life serving."

But in reality, of course, Plátaa was building ships for the Dark armies, so that they could cross the ocean to other Continents, as ordered by the Dark Lord. He built many magnificent ships during this little time and the builders worked under torchlight, day and night, to bring his visions to reality. He built a magnificent three-masted caravel; he painted it black and gold and hung a large Imperial banner at the top of the middle mast. He devoted it to the Empress and had to excuse himself from the little ceremony which took place a few days ago, when the ship was complete and was presented to the people of Larria. The magnificent three-masted ship containing four decks remained moored in the main port of call, right in front of the Imperial mansion. He named the ship after the Empress.

As a consequence, the Empress' council of advisers, the maidens who lived to serve her and were now left without a mistress, voted for him to be the successor to the throne of Larria and the majority of the Empress' servants supported it. The advisers seemed to finally voice what everyone felt was right and it put an end to the squabbling. A few went to see the shipbuilder in order to announce their decision.

They found him in his study-room, surrounded with sketches of new ships. The shipbuilder had ink blotches all over his nose, his eyes were puffed and red and his hands were trembling due to lack of sleep.

"Plátaa," they addressed him from the doorway. "The decision has been made. We have a successor to the throne."

But Plátaa did not seem to hear them. He was immersed in his work and he merely hummed as an answer, sitting bent over a large sketch of a wonderful ship. They approached his drawing-board, and peered at it.

It was a schooner and its lines were long and graceful. It seemed to be made to draw far too little water to be able to carry goods, but as a consequence, they knew, it was bound to be as swift as the wind. They stared at it, speechless. No one has constructed such a ship yet – it looked so fragile that they doubted it could ever sail through a gale. And yet, if Plátaa constructed it, it had to be able to. He was a shipbuilder of great renown and the Empress' trustee in all matters concerning ships and seamanship. But this schooner of his looked quite unorthodox and fantastic.

"You see this timber here?" Plátaa asked in a hoarse voice, pointing a finger at his sketch. "It will make the ocean simply part when the schooner passes through it; it will glide, like a shadow, like an avenger from the dark."

They exchanged worried glances and shifted on their feet. He seemed utterly and completely obsessed with his sketches and they thought that this new schooner just might be the most brilliant ship he ever constructed.

"It will be the fastest ship on Horukaan," he said, gazing dreamily at his sketch. "And it will be the pride of our Empire. We shall make canvas in the shape of the banner and paint the timber in blue and yellow, the colours which appear on the banner. I cannot believe I have not thought of this before. This schooner, if constructed exactly according to my calculations – precision shall be very important with this little lady – could go up to ten knots with full canvas spread; and I believe it shall weigh no more than a hundred tons. It will be wonderful."

"Plátaa," said one quietly. "The Empire of Larria cries for you. It wants you to be the successor to the throne."

Plátaa turned his weary eyes at them, stared at them for a few moments and then burst into hysterical laughter.

"Do not make pranks on such a gloomy morning, pray," he said, turning to his sketch once again. "I am rather worn out. But I must finish this before the end of the week."

"This is not one of the forecastle pranks you are accustomed to, Plátaa," said the other, approaching him.

He dropped down to his one knee and stared at his feet. The others have done the same, feeling that this might convince him that they were not playing pranks on him.

"The Empire of Larria has spoken; it has chosen you. You must honour the will of the people. You must be our emperor."

Plátaa drew aback his chair and stared at him. With ink blotches all over himself and his ragged clothes, his hair falling out of his ponytail, his white sailor's shirt torn and filthy, he did not exactly resemble the picture of a ruler. He stared at the three kneeling people at his feet as he suddenly realised what this meant and took a deep breath.

"I am only a shipbuilder," he said in a shocked voice.

But his insides were burning with happiness and triumph. He worked so hard to accomplish this and was expecting something of the sort for days. Plátaa was a man of immense talent for his work, which he did not allow to show very often. He was brilliant at calculations, shipbuilding and seamanship, but in his service he rarely came across something that would a challenge for him. The Empress preferred ships which were all of similar build. Unimaginative and dull, he felt; but she thought it was for the best and that such ships were the best for their purpose. Now, however, he set all of his imagination and inspiration run free and they got wings like children being allowed to play after a very long, dull day. Fascinating shapes of ships started looming up before his eyes and he had to obsessively sketch not to lose sight of them. To him, such a breakthrough was fascinating.

"We shall assist you," said one. "Plátaa, please, do not make this difficult for Larria, more difficult than it already is. You must accept."

"Was this the Empress' will?" he asked quietly, in a tone which suggested that now they had his fullest and undivided attention.

"She never got the chance to voice her will," they said desperately, thinking he was bound to decline if they did not say that it was. But at the same time they could not lie to him. "But the people have voiced their will. The maiden advisers have voted for you; they came out in public and spoke. You know that it is against their rules. But they have done so and expressed their certainty that you would be a good ruler, that you had their fullest support. Shortly after that everyone assembled and the majority voted for you."

"Please, Plátaa," said one imploringly. "We beg you. Accept the throne. I am certain that the Empress would have approved."

It seemed that he said the very words Plátaa was waiting for. With a jerk, he got to his feet, ignoring their kneeling as though it was something revolting and unfitting, though the very picture filled him with joy and pride. He stared through the window, tucking his filthy hands into his pockets. They stared at him with apprehension.

"I can do it, until someone better comes along, in the honour of my Empress," he said quietly, in a hollow voice. "Because of the people. But I do not know a thing about ruling. I only build ships, you see."

He sounded like a child, they thought. But at least, this sounded as though he was making peace with his fate. They got to their feet, rushed to him and took his hand to shake it with feeling.

"And the Empire of Larria shall have the most beautiful ships under your rule, which shall make it famous across all oceans and seas of Horukaan," one said sincerely, nodding at him and bowing his head. "Your Eminence."

Plátaa stared at him for a few moments, looking as though he had no idea what to say or do.

"Tell me what do I need to do," he said at last.

ooooooooooooooooo

On the Third Continent, the Droddians and Mongrap seemed to be enjoying the assignment the Dark Lord gave to them.

"Ha!" Mongrap laughed, his enormous belly quivering, banging a large fist on the table. "What I would not give to see Dankaar's face when I overthrow him!"

He laughed so hard that it almost looked as though he was having a fit. Mongrap had sufficient power in the Kingdom to rally as many warriors as he liked. It would suffice to tell them that he intended to overthrow Dankaar and everyone would stand by him. At first the whole thing seemed like something he had to do. But now Mongrap realised that he could also have some fun while he was at it.

It was not the fact that King Dankaar was a lousy ruler or that the people were displeased. But Droddians were warriors and waging war was in their blood. And to see someone as strange and as interesting as Mongrap sitting on the throne would be worth the trouble, they thought. Mongrap himself had no time to actually devote himself to the task the Dark Lord has given him – he was far too occupied with smuggling goods across the border and playing tricks on Dankaar's people. His companions and trustees, however, have taken up the matter into their hands.

They all remembered the massacre which took place in the Second Age, when the Droddians united with the rest of the races of Horukaan against the Dark armies. And though they felt as though they were betraying their own blood when they signed the treaty, because a Sith was responsible for the deaths of their forefathers, they believed it was a wise thing to do, given the number of allies the Sith Lord had. But there was something else. Never before did a Sith Lord offer an alliance and promise something to his allies in return. But perhaps this Sith Lord was different?

Never before have they heard of Sith students – and yet they have seen them. They were all exceedingly young, but they did not have three heads or forked tails, as far as they could see. The Droddians of the Third Continent, who had little or no understanding of the Dark side, or Force in general, could not see what one could learn about the Dark side. If one was Force-sensitive, whatever that meant, they learned, one could levitate things and set things on fire. But they concluded that it was so much more. One could kill without the use of a sword, unlike the Jedi, and the concluded that the legends about the Dark Lord of the Second Age were true. It was said that he could kill with his glance and with a point of his finger. They have seen it with their own eyes.

Thus the Droddians of the Third Continent were very excited when the news were delivered to them and hastened to make even more weapons, thrilled with the idea that they would have Mongrap as their ruler. No one objected – and wherever Mongrap's companions went, on whichever door they knocked, they were welcomed. Every single warrior to whom they spoke promised he or she would stand by Mongrap and go to war with him.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

The shamans of the Second Continent were a different story. The one who signed the treaty was a chief of one of the largest and most renowned tribes on the Continent (which was in reality a large island), and he first saw signs of trouble when he was smoking a pipe filled with a mixture of opium herbs which were growing all over the Continent and gazing at the evening fire. Suddenly a skull erupted from the flames, stuck out its tongue and threw itself at him with an infernal roar. He screamed, fell on the ground and looked up again, staring at the fire, expecting the skull to still be there. But it was gone. Disembowelling fowls and reading from their intestines took place, which was one of their divination methods – and in the haze of the green smoke of the herbs which were also burned to summon up the spirits of time, they have seen many things which made them believe that a great threat has arisen. The chosen one, they read, would carry the banner of all tribes across the oceans and he would lead them to war.

Thus Takkaniku was not the least surprised when emissaries arrived to the Continent aboard a great tall ship from the Empire of Larria. The tribes lived on the shores of the Continent, as the heart of the Continent has always been a mystery for the shamans. They believed that the god of the underworld lived there and thus old people, nearing the end of their lives, would take food and water and depart inland on their last journey. They never returned and thus the tribes knew that the god of the underworld accepted them and allowed them to pass into the beyond. The tribes never dared to go beyond the mountain range of Khu Kan, beyond which one could see the marshland and many silent lakes which marked the outskirts of the domain of the lord of the underworld. The also spoke about mermaids; singing, beautiful women, who would allure anyone who was not ready to pass into the beyond with their song and force him to live a life between the two worlds and become an accursed spirit, haunting the forests. These lakes were shunned and no one dared to venture further into the depths of the Continent beyond the jungles which laced the shores.

However, they often visited small islands on long boats made of tree-trunks, where they hunted or picked herbs. The sea was so shallow they could paddle with the use of long rods and thus they often made trips to the islands, but they never settled there. Once they read in the tea-leaves that it was the will of their spirits of magic, who were their advisers, not to do so, that it was for the best to leave the isles uninhabited, they gave up trying to settle down there.

To be able to sail across the ocean to the First Continent and see the Dark Lord they built large rafts and paddled all across the shallow but treacherous seas of the north. They sailed alongside of the haze of the mystic land of Gnath and its border with the ocean. The red mist veiled the ocean as far as they could see, like the toxic breath of death spreading from Gnath and they did not even consider trying to sail through it. They came ashore on the eastern coast of the Land of Gotan and walked across the land to arrive to the capital city of Gotan.

The shamans were not great warriors. They were hunters and they were very experienced with poisonous darts and long spears. But they have never really waged war against human beings. The Dark Lord, however, seemed to understand this, and thus requested of them to be his scouts. The rest of them, he said, could ride, and be his spearmen. There were tall, bulky, lazy animals called Pontû living on their Continent, which were used for riding, but the shamans have never seen a horse, let along ridden one. The shamans were very dexterous in handling their uncannily thin but firm spears, which they used to could kill reptiles in the shallows, then diving in to finish them off with daggers. There was not as much sunlight on their Continent as there was on the First Continent, but it was rather warm during all seasons. It was the shamans' presumption that the heat was coming from the accursed land, which was commonly known as the Land of Gnath. According to their beliefs, the accursed land was teeming with evil spirits but despite of the legends there were a few braver shamans who believed they could be summoned and that they could reveal the secrets of creation to them.

It often drizzled and rain did not normally fall there as it did on all other Continents. There was something in the air, however, something about the plants and animals they ate that sharpened their senses. Great Hokkas were especially appreciated – enormous reptiles, sometimes weighing half a ton, with great, dull eyes, giving one the impression that they were always sleepy. They were especially hard to kill because of their thick skin, their size and their speed. Their skin was used for making water-skins and saddles, whereas their teeth and the tips of their tails, were worn by chiefs and anyone who managed to catch a Hokka and kill it.

But generally chiefs were chosen because of their courage, their ability to see the future and wisdom. And Takkaniku killed a Hokka when he was only sixteen years old. He was the celebrated as a great hunter and hero of his tribe when he brought the animal's tail to prove he did it. He was chosen to be the chief of his tribe when he was nineteen and since then, his people followed him and admired his spiritual capabilities, marvelling at the messages he was receiving from the spirits and respecting him for his wisdom. Thus it was not so surprising to see strangers come ashore from a ship and ask for him.

Once they departed, Takkaniku mounted a Pontû and rode with a few members of his tribe to carry the message to all other tribes. Great council fires have been kindled and for days and nights, all they could talk about was Takkaniku and his vision of death in the fire and the arrival of the emissaries. Spirits were counselled; and they all agreed that they had to go and see this Sith Lord and speak to him. Thus they travelled to meet him and came back with fantastic stories about him. They saw an evil spirit hovering around the Sith Lord and they felt it was the most frightening thing they have ever seen. They decided to do the only thing which could be done, given what the spirits told them – obey.

Nasiyu, Takkaniku's favourite spirit, his counsellor, a lady spirit who knew a lot about other spirits and could direct him at those who could help him when she could not, appeared in Takkaniku's dreams when he came back from Gotan.

"The spirits are drawn to him, like moths to light," she told him.

Takkaniku did not open his eyes, sensing her presence by his bed.

"What else have you seen, Nasiyu? Advise me; I need advice badly," he said.

"He speaks to them," she said quietly, as though confused herself. This has never happened before, Takkaniku noted, alarmed. He sat up in his bed.

"And they listen," she said after a pause.

"Have you spoken to him?" he asked.

"No," she said. "He sensed I was there; but he did not think I was a worthy spirit to talk to. He only addressed me briefly and then pushed me away."

"He could hear you?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered. "He said... that you should not waste your time on brooding about what he could do and what he could not do, but rather focus on your preparations for war."

Takkaniku stared ahead of him, not really seeing anything. Was this something the Sith Lords could do? Was this something that the Dark side could do? He did not know, because he did not know enough about the one Sith that existed before. But if this was so, then...

"He is a spirit-hearer?" he whispered to the air before him. He felt Nasiyu standing right beside him.

"What do the other spirits say? Is this why they go to him? Because he can hear them?" he asked.

"That, yes," she answered. "But Buna says that he speaks with the dead – Buna heard him."

Buna was a spirit which was playful and sometimes very naughty. If a child was too naughty, the shamans believed that they were able to hear Buna, who was making them wreak havoc. He enjoyed playing tricks on people and could be a household pest one could not easily get rid of.

"Do you believe Buna said the truth?" Takkaniku asked doubtfully.

"Buna did not lie this time," Nasiyu answered firmly.

This was enough for Takkaniku. He knew he could completely trust her judgement. In fact, Nasiyu was the first spirit he ever summoned.

"Then he is a great shaman," Takkaniku said, straightening up. "A great shaman indeed, but an evil one."

"Perhaps he might reveal his secrets to Takkaniku," Nasiyu said with fondness.

"Those secrets," he said, "are the secrets of evil shamans. I do not want anything to do with them."

"Takkaniku is very noble," Nasiyu said. "How can Nasiyu help him?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

If one would dare to sail through the red mist spreading from the Land of Gnath and northward, past the Second Continent, the red mist would get thinner and thinner after a while until it would completely disappear. If one would sail on, one would arrive not to the heart of the world or to the underworld where evil spirits lived, but to the lost land of Gehoor.

According to the legends, a Caelian priestess once fell in love with a Droddian warrior, admiring his qualities which her people despised so much. The Droddian warrior was noble, brave and beautiful for his race. He saw a goddess of infinite beauty and wisdom in the Caelian priestess and he fell madly in love with her. Once the Caelians found out what she had done, they banished her. They were not welcome in his land, either, since she was no warrior and since he, by getting involved with her, betrayed his race and his blood. They escaped together; they sailed northward, toward the end of the world, wanting to die together, but instead they came across an island and settled down there. They gave rise to a new race, which continued to live on the island, oblivious to the existence of the rest of the world. They called themselves the maidens of Gehoor.

There were no men living among the maidens of Gehoor and they have never seen any, if one would exclude the legends of the creation of their race, which spoke about a brave father and a wise mother. They procreated by impregnating their own wombs, using a technique the great mother of them all taught them and have been doing so for generations. Each maiden had only one daughter and there was a specific time to do this, a holy time, when a maiden would be left alone to be able to go through this delicate process at the completion of which she would come back to her people with a daughter.

It was the Fifth Season and they had no idea. Because in Gehoor one could see only one sun, which never set or rose. The blue-white rays of the Cyrron sun appeared bloody red in Gehoor and the sun itself looked larger. The maidens of Gehoor rarely sailed; for there was no place for them to sail to. They shunned the Land of Gnath, because they felt it was too hot for them there, whatever lay beyond that red mist spreading from it. But primarily they never left the island because the legend said that the great Caelian mother once warned them not to go there, saying it was an evil place. As for the vastness of the ocean stretching toward north-east, they could sail in that direction all they liked and never see land. Thus they believed it was infinite.

Gehoor was an island which seemed as though it was dropped from the skies, surrounded by deep waters, protruding from the ocean like the top of a mountain. The Gehoor soil was red very fertile, so whatever the maidens wanted to grow, it would grow instantly. Whatever grew on Gehoor, if compared to the rest of the world, of which they knew nothing about, seemed gigantic. The maidens made their dwellings on tall trees, which offered them shade and protection against the rain. The maidens themselves were very tall, dark-skinned and exceptionally strong. They hunted animals for sport, but never ate them and never killed them. They ate mostly plants and the strange blind fish and other sea creatures the Caelian mother once told them were good for them. In the honour of their father, they would organise competitions which were a test of endurance, strength and hunting skills. Once a year, all Gehoor maidens would assemble at the sacred place where remnants of the house of their forefathers was and there partake in the competition, eat the sacred blind fish, and honour their roots.

Their names were very unusual, because once a Gehoor maiden gave birth in seclusion, she would name her daughter according to the first thing she would set her eyes on or the first thing which popped into her mind. The Gehoor children were thus named after the sea, the sky, an animal, a plant, a feeling, a memory or a thought. Since it was too hot on Gehoor to ever bother with clothes, they never wore any. The arch-maiden of a tribe was the tallest and the strongest maiden of their tribe, chosen by the others.

They lived in peace with all of the animals living there, especially with the dragons, which they considered as friends. There was a story about a maiden of Gehoor who went to speak to the dragons after years and years of waging war against them. She asked them why they wanted to destroy her race and what was it, that was making them angry. The dragons answered that they ate their food, that they ate animals and because of this the dragons considered them as competition. The brave maiden went back to her people and told them about this. And since that day, not one maiden of Gehoor tasted animal flesh. The dragons were so surprised with their sacrifice that they befriended themselves with the maidens. Since then the dragons were their friends and helpers and vice versa.

To such a fantastic land a dragon now arrived which flew in circles over it, before it landed on the large plateau right in front of one of the villages. Flying dragons were nothing out of the ordinary. However, this dragon was not alone. Two travellers jumped down from its back and the arch-maiden was called. She hastened, fully armed, with a group of her trustees to see these travellers for herself.

"Infernal creatures!" she cried as soon as she saw them. "Kill them!"

The maidens charged at them but one of the clothed figures simply raised a hand, at what the maidens flew in large arcs through the air and fell on the ground.

"I know you cannot understand us," said the figure as the maidens scampered to their feet, eyes wide with fear and anger. "But you can understand Draconian."

She turned to the dragon, not saying a word. But the following moment, the green and red dragon – such a dragon the maidens have never seen in their lives – lowered its massive head toward the maidens and began hissing and growling at them. Torn between the urge to listen and to stare at the newcomers, the maidens stood frozen to the spot, until the arch maiden made a resolute step toward the dragon, extended her hand toward it and spoke back. The dragon's black eyes twinkled as it growled and she listened, wide eyed. She heard the story about a mighty warrior living far away, who took care of the dragon and who hid it when the shepherds wanted to kill it. She heard the story about his students, who were sent to Gehoor to speak on his behalf. And she heard about the power of the Dark side. Not taking her eyes off the clothed figures standing in front of her, she turned to the maidens and spoke to them. Their language was a mixture of Droddian and Caelian, a strange meld between it, and this time the clothed figures understood a few words.

"I speak a bit of Droddian," said the same figure which spoke before, much taller than the other one, but still small compared to the maidens. "I daresay you would be able to understand me."

"She speaks our language!" cried one of the maidens, pointing at her.

("Well, that simplifies matters,") said the other clothed figure in a hissing language they could not understand.

"Where does this dragon come from?" asked the arch maiden, not knowing what to think anymore, pointing at the beautiful figure of the dragon, who was now sweeping the red soil with his tail, looking very pleased with himself.

"Like he said, he is a protégé of our Master's," said the clothed figure. "And our good friend."

The arch maiden looked back toward the dragon, who was now staring in surprise at the dragons which flew high over his head, having come to see what was amiss.

"We have not come to harm you," the clothed figure said in a soothing tone, as soothing as the Droddian language allowed it to be. "We have come to speak to you."

She lowered her hood and revealed her face. The maidens gasped. They have never seen anything like it – her face was white like pearls but her hair seemed to be partially black, which was a hint of something familiar, as all maidens of Gehoor had black hair.

"You a daughter of our fore-father?" asked the maiden doubtfully, eyeing her.

"Not so," answered the creature, racking her brains over what this might mean and quickly adapting to the situation. "But we mean you no harm, brave maidens. We come in peace. To speak to you."

She turned to the dragon and seemed to stare at him. However, the dragon nodded, spread his wings and flew high in the air. He disappeared in the sea of dragons which dotted the sky, breathing out fire to express his excitement.

"There," the clothed figure said, smiling. "Our dragon is going to socialise with his sort. Now can we do the same?"

The arch maiden stared at them for a few more moments, then waved a fierce hand and started to walk back to the village. The two Sith stared at her muscular back as she walked, following her. Tyananna lowered her hood once they entered the village with relief. She turned and stared at Cyrron, which resembled a large, burning ball in the sky. Have they not just flown across the ocean to arrive here, checking their course every now and then using a compass, they would have believed that they arrived to some alien planet.

"There is a world beyond Gehoor?" asked the arch maiden as soon as they set foot into a very comfortable room. There were no chairs, Tyananna noted.

"We know that all of it shall come as a great shock," Lady Tarralyanna said. "But we ask you to listen to what we have to say."

The arch-maiden has gone past the shock and fear of the pale-skinned, as she mentally called them, and sat down on a simple mat made of fine twigs, pointing at the empty space in front of her, inviting them to sit down. Completely naked, with paint smeared over her in strange patterns which reminded Lady Tarralyanna of the Droddian alphabet and wearing a belt with what looked liked a large club protruding from it, she indeed looked like a creature from another world. She imagined that the arch-maiden thought the same about them. She waved a hand toward the maidens who have been standing behind her and staring at the two until then, who went out and returned with fruit in their hands, placing them on the floor in front of them.

"Now I am listening," the arch maiden said, tearing off a large piece of the fruit and pushing it into her mouth. What muscles, Tyananna thought! Must be all that tree-climbing and hunting.

"Our dragon has undoubtedly told you about our Master," Lady Tarralyanna said, disentangling herself from her cloak, which was drenched in sweat, and taking off her shirt. During their voyage they had to fly through fine snow mist, which veiled the eastern mountain ranges, only to reach clouds of heat which rose from the ocean below.

The arch maiden stared at them, glancing over their pale skin and over the numerous tattoos which almost completely covered Lady Tarralyanna's body.

"And yes, there is a world beyond your land," Lady Tarralyanna went on placidly, placing her wrists on her knees, looking as comfortable and as relaxed as though she was getting ready for a meditation. "But oddly, the rest of the world does not know anything about your land, just like you do not know anything about the rest of the world."

"Why have the pale-skinned come only now?" asked the arch maiden carefully.

She is a smart one, Tyananna thought, stretching out her senses and trying to listen to her thoughts, if her Droddian already needed brushing up (though she already learned a few hundred Droddian words). The arch maiden was trying to fathom out the reason for the unexpected arrival of the pale-skinned, so suddenly, after centuries and centuries of silence. If the world was out there and if someone knew about the land of Gehoor, why have they not come before?

"A good question," Lady Tarralyanna said, smiling at her. "We have come to warn you," she said seriously.

The maiden straightened up, eyeing her suspiciously.

"A great war is about to start. It shall be fierce and merciless. My Master knows about your land; he knows about the legend of your race; and thus he sent us to warn you about it. The fact that no pale-skinned, as you call them, have come here yet, does not mean that no one knows about you. Some might have conquest on their minds, seeing the beauty of your land and thinking about everything they might do with it."

"We would defend ourselves!" cried the arch-maiden furiously, her eyes flashing at them.

Droddian blood, Tyananna thought, watching her. Her rage was like a boiling cauldron – it was only a matter of time before it spilled over the rim. How very inconvenient, she thought. But of course, in her quick judgement she forgot that she once had problems with controlling her anger as well.

"You do not know about the world," Lady Tarralyanna said softly. "But we do. And what is the most important of all, our Master does. He offered his help to you, if you wish to accept it."

The arch-maiden sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing, and began to pace the wooden room with her hands on her back.

"Tell me about him," she said imperiously, turning to them.

"He is a great warrior, one of the greatest warriors that ever lived," Lady Tarralyanna said with fondness in her voice.

"He is the Lord of the one side of the Force," Tyananna added. "And we are his students."

"Tell me about this force," the arch-maiden said, staring at her in turn. She seemed to be readier to listen to Tyananna, because she looked like a warrior, Tyananna concluded.

"The Force is all around you and you cannot see it, or touch it," Tyananna said, nodding. "But there are those of us who can feel it; who can use it. Though you do not feel the Force around you, we do; it is in every being, in every plant, in every animal. Even in the air, in the fire, in the soil."

She lifted a ringed hand and pointed a finger at the simplified window to her right, which quickly slid shut. The arch maiden jumped and stared at her.

"This is what this force can do?" she asked, staring at her with fear in her dark eyes.

As an answer, Tyananna smiled softly at her, uplifted her palm and enveloped her with the Dark side. She lifted her in the air, at what the arch-maiden gave a terrified scream, and then placed her gently on the ground once again.

She gaped at Tyananna and her lips moved soundlessly, as she was trying to put into words what she just felt.

"You are gods!" she cried finally. "All you can do!"

"And we want to help you," Lady Tarralyanna said softly. "Our Master cares for your land; and he respects your race."

"Can... your master do the same as she can?" asked the arch-maiden, pointing a trembling finger in Tyananna's direction.

Tyananna smiled. Who would jump up and say that she was a god a few years ago, when she was a Jedi? No one was impressed with her skill; no one gaped at her in awe and fear. And though she knew that the maidens knew nothing about the Force and were thus easily impressed, it still offered her a tremendous feeling of pleasure.

"He is our teacher," Lady Tarralyanna said, smiling. "And the greatest that ever lived."

"Then Gehoor must meet this great warrior," the arch-maiden said, her chest heaving up and down quickly.

Tyananna was impressed with the fact she accepted all of this so quickly. She only just found out that there was an entire world out there, somewhere; she only just heard about the Dark Lord. And yet now she was already expressing her desire to meet him. The closeness of Gnath has to have something to do with it, she thought.

"That can be easily arranged," Lady Tarralyanna said happily, seeing that her task was almost finished. "You may take a few of your warriors with you and prepare rations for the trip. I trust your dragons shall carry you?"

"To the end of the world," the maiden said passionately.

She turned toward the simplified door and roared. A few maidens charged inside, staring at her expectantly. There were no bows, no kneels. But it was obvious that they shared great respect for her.

"Prepare food and water," she ordered them. "We are going to meet a god."


	40. Chapter 39 - Part Three

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXXIX – Journey Through Darkness

Seven days later an exhausted duo was sitting in the garden of the Sith Temple at a round table, one looking more tired than the other. However, there was a glint in Lady Tarralyanna's eye as she looked at her companion, who stared at her feet, yawning.

"You know," she said slowly, "I daresay the Gehoor maidens were impressed by you."

Tyananna looked at her in surprise.

"Me?" she asked. "Why me?"

"Because," Lady Tarralyanna said with a secretive smile, "you also discovered the existence of what you thought did not exist, too, and you were taken here, to the Temple, to be trained. All of your greatest dreams have come true, without you realising you had them. I believe that is a similarity between you and the Gehoor maidens, which served to gain their trust. And of course they consider you a fellow warrior because of your appearance."

Tyananna gave a nervous laugh and shook her head. The trip to Gehoor left her with a definite feeling of déjà vu, Tarralyanna was right. She was certain that the Gehoorians felt just as she felt when she saw the Sith for the first time – asking herself whether it was possible she was dreaming while awake. But during their journey she also noticed that the maidens took her more seriously than Lady Tarralyanna. At that moment, the massive figure of Lord Tammutyen appeared in the archway leading to the garden where they sat.

"Too little coffee today," he said grumpily, approaching the table in a long stride.

He placed his hands on Lady Tarralyanna's shoulders from the behind and gave her a peck on the cheek. Then he turned around seriously, as though performing some sort of a ceremony which required concentration, placed his hands on Tyananna's shoulders and gave her a peck on the cheek as well. Tyananna felt her face was turning beet red as he did this and met Lady Tarralyanna's glance, who was smiling mysteriously at her and rocking in her chair. She knew, Tyananna thought; he must have told her. And no matter how often she reminded herself that they valued things differently, still she felt uncomfortable with this. With this gesture Lord Tammutyen acknowledged the intimacy he shared with both of them and it felt odd.

Tyananna, who had been racking her brains about what to do about her 'little problem' for weeks, had finally decided to follow the Dark Lord's advice and she went to see Lord Tammutyen, who seemed to understand what she wanted even without her saying it aloud. He made things easier for her and Tyananna soon found herself in his embrace, without even having time to think about what was happening. To her surprise, he was exceedingly gentle with her, as though he was afraid he might break her. But in truth Tammutyen already anticipated something of the sort and prepared himself for her visit. Tyananna did not require a lot of persuasion and soon she found herself clawing him and losing herself in a sweet twirl of passion as Lord Tammutyen concentrated on his task. They used the smell of her blood to help him and they spent a magnificent night together, which Tyananna would never forget. In the morning she felt shame pervade her upon the thought of what she did and what she said the night before. However, Lord Tammutyen turned out to be a perfect gentleman and she left his bedroom feeling exhausted but oddly pleased with everything. However, the moment she saw Lady Tarralyanna she felt her cheeks go red when she thought back about what she did with her lover only a few hours ago.

At length she had to admit that the night she spent with him helped her a great deal. Not only to alleviate the tension but also to deal with her own prejudice and doubts. Tyananna had her share of kissing and snogging while she was at the Temple, but she never experienced what she experienced with Lord Tammutyen. It was a night full of passion, pain and blood and though Tyananna was certain that something of the sort would normally disgust her, at the time she felt that nothing was more arousing than Lord Tammutyen biting her all over her neck while making love to her.

Peetah hurried after Lord Tammutyen, carrying coffee and nervously looking over her shoulder. They all knew why – the Dark Lord was supposed to arrive any moment now. It looked as though she wanted to say something, to ask them something, as she has not seen either Tarralyanna or Tyananna since they came back from their mission, but she closed her mouth. The tall figure of the Dark Lord loomed up in sight and the three got to their feet, whereas Peetah disappeared as soon as he waved a hand at her.

The three Sith watched in silence as the Dark Lord lifted a lazy finger at what the four cups landed in front of each and the pot obediently poured the toxic-looking, black liquid which was so popular among the Sith into the Dark Lord's cup first.

"The power of the Dark side extends," he said, his thin mouth curling to form a smile. "The Land of Gehoor has promised its allegiance to me. Ignorance is a beautiful thing, do you not think so, my apprentices?" He sighed and looked up at the starless sky. "Still, it is impossible to tell whether or not a race such as Gehoorian would stand by me anyway. They are untainted by fear and knowledge about the Sith, unlike the rest of Horukaan. What do you think, Tammutyen?"

Tammutyen straightened up a little, as he was just taking out his cigar box and his dark eyes wandered over the content of the table before he answered.

"They have Droddian blood in their veins, my Master," he said slowly. "I daresay it would be in their nature to stand by you, as a warrior race."

"But their land is not threatened, as we have told them," the Dark Lord said, interlacing his fingers on the table and nodding to himself. He smirked. "Why would one want to meddle in a war which does not concern him? Horukaan fears me for a reason and most of my allies stood by me out of fear – but Gehoor? No one knows about it. The Jedi have probably never thought about it but even if they have, the closeness of the Land of Gnath would have dissuaded from any bit of exploration which might have crossed their minds."

The three Sith were silent for a while, thinking about this.

"My Master," Tyananna said suddenly. "May I ask a question?"

The Dark Lord merely nodded, pulling at his pipe and fixing his glance upon her.

"When... have you planned to disclose yourself to the whole world?" she asked.

Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna now looked expectantly at the Dark Lord.

"Rashness," he said after a pause, "is not a virtue. Contrary to what the Jedi think about us, we are not rash, as you must have realised throughout your extensive training. Perhaps they lack information; but this, yet again, is our advantage. They do not know how we function; they do not understand the Dark side, nor are they trying to understand it. We know how the light side feels like and how the Jedi function – I have demonstrated it for each of you often enough not to forget it, if you alone are not able to do it and I have given you ample literature on the Jedi customs and the history of their Order. We learn about our enemy and we study him to know who we are dealing with."

"I shall do so," he went on, now proceeding to answer her question, "when it will be inevitable. Surely our work in the Dark side has caused enough ripples in the Force for the Jedi to feel it by now. They are not stupid and there are powerful Jedi who are well attuned to the fine fluctuations in the Force. But for now it is all a mystery, a whisper in the Force, threat from the deep."

Tyananna knew that he was taking Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen on trips to the mountains, where they could practise Force Lightning and Force Shield without destroying half of the Temple in the process. Silver flashes and ground-shaking explosions ascertained her that they were advancing very well. Tyananna could feel ripples in the Dark side while they were working, but she was a Sith, after all. Perhaps Jedi could not feel anything definite.

"Fear is all in the mind. Imagine a mouse sitting on a chair before the fire. A person coming from behind it might see its shadow on the wall, gigantic and horrible, and think it is some sort of an infernal beast. But coming closer, he would see only a mouse sitting on a chair. The main difference between us and the Jedi is that we never give in to fear."

"The Sith represent everything the people have ever been afraid of," he went on thoughtfully.

He seemed to be in the mood for a conversation and they hoped it would last.

"And once we _do_ come out into the open, once we announce that the Sith Order is existent and flourishing, we should not disappoint them. We shall spread fear and panic wherever we go."

"Lord Tammutyen has no problems with that part, I daresay," he said with a chuckle, at what Tammutyen grinned broadly, showing his fangs. "He cannot help it; it is in his nature. Lady Tarralyanna is getting close. But Tyananna..."

He stared at her fixedly and Tyananna trembled, bowing her glance. Her heart fell. She was certain that no one in the right mind would be afraid of her.

"She needs to understand what frightens people. Lord Tammutyen can frighten people solely by his appearance; though his inspired talk about disembowelling does its trick as well. Lady Tarralyanna frighten people because of her inhuman appearance as well; but because of her gestures as well, as she has the habit of flexing her fist, what makes people believe that her fist is sore due to too much strangling."

The four Sith laughed and Lady Tarralyanna looked very pleased with herself.

"But her voice and the way she commands people around, with certainty, with obvious superiority, which leaves no room for disobedience – this is what frightened the people of Quentaa. You see, Tyananna? Each of them has her or his own way and you need to find yours. You need to ask yourself how can you instil fear in people."

Tyananna looked downcast – she was certain that no one would really be afraid of her. She could take her cloak off, though, she thought grumpily, and hope that people would be afraid of tattooed, muscular women with flaming red hair.

"Fear is all in the mind, my apprentice," the Dark Lord said, obviously hearing her doubts. "But here is a hint – you may start with rage. Your hair reminds people of untamed, dangerous animals. That is why I said I approved of it. And if you let your rage show – which you possess in infinite amounts – it might do the trick."

Tyananna thought about this, remembering that Waak got scared of her when she had one of her hysterical fits. Whether this was because she looked utterly deranged for a moment or because he was truly frightened of her in that moment, it was hard to tell, but Tyananna would gladly believe the latter. Perhaps, she thought, if I add up a few things, such as dragon claws in my hair or things like that...

"Very good," the Dark Lord said, nodding at her and looking away, stirring his coffee. "It is a start. You shall practise with the inhabitants of the town; and with my servants at the Court as well."

He never said 'you should' or 'you might'. What he demanded of her was always formulated as a clear order and there was absolutely no room for disobedience. Perhaps she should take a leaf out of his book.

"I might give you several tips," he went on. "But as it is, I choose not to. My advice is to read the book of legends of Horukaan again – there are several legends you will find quite useful."

Tyananna immediately understood what he wanted to say and her face suddenly illuminated with a smile of relief. She would read about what people of Horukaan found frightening, which legends in particular and choose one which may fit her, keeping to the character described and paying attention to the details and attributions. She looked very enthusiastic about it and was already planning to take the book with her to bed and read it there.

"The Dark armies shall be rallied in quiet, in secret," the Dark Lord said, leaning aback in his chair with his pipe in his hand. "But I believe that the first charge is not so far ahead of us, my apprentices. Keep that in mind."

Tyananna suddenly had a very vivid image of herself riding to battle and she was surprised with the fact that it no longer felt strange. It felt exciting, she thought.

"But Tyananna's exploration of fear shall be cut short," the Dark Lord said, again turning to her, who was about to take a sip of her coffee. She put it down, wondering whether it was all right to drink coffee while he was talking to her. It seemed a little rude.

"For I have decided to send you on a mission," the Dark Lord said, not taking his eyes off her.

Lady Tarralyanna seemed to be very excited about this; but, wait, Tyananna thought– she is merely sitting quietly as I am. I must have caught her thought. The idea filled her pride and joy, as she was working very hard on her mental capabilities and her ability to share thoughts through the Dark side.

"It is a very important mission. You must not fail me, my apprentice," the Dark Lord went on.

"I will give my very best, my Master," Tyananna said eagerly as excitement began to spread through her like wildfire. She would be going alone on a mission? What was it? What was it that she could handle on her own, without Lord Tammutyen or Lady Tarralyanna assisting her?

"I want you to go to the Jedi Temple," the Dark Lord said in an important tone, watching her carefully. Her hands shook and she swallowed something bitter and hard, but she sat where she was, listening, and not betraying with any gesture or movement that she was shocked.

"I want you to spy on them. I sense they felt us and that they are planning something. But I want to know exactly what they are up to. Of course, it is of utmost importance that you are not caught; and the operation itself shall be very hard, and very delicate. I shall leave it to you to decide how to approach the matter."

"You are by far the best person for the job," he went on, while Lady Tarralyanna cast one furtive glance at her, as though worried about her reaction. "And though the matter is very complex, I put my trust in your resourcefulness. Do you think you are up to it?"

Tyananna's lip trembled – she knew this was a test. She was certain he was testing her; to see whether she would be tempted to go back to her old ways and betray him. And he was putting it all right in front of her under the pretence of a mission. All that she dreamed about before, about going back to the Jedi Temple and telling them all about the Sith, was now right in front of her. But she immediately knew what it was – temptation.

"I shall not fail you, my Master," she said, lifting her glance resolutely.

Their glances met; and for a moment, neither of them said anything. At last he smiled at her and nodded. The Dark Lord was a merciless and cruel teacher, but also an infinitely wise man, a storeroom of power which left her breathless. But in that moment, she spoke to him as she would speak to a father. For she redefined the concept with regard to the role he was playing in her life, realising that she never had a father until she met the Dark Lord.

"I know you will not," he said softly. He pointed a finger at the coffee pot, which poured another cup for him. "You leave at dawn."

oooooooooooooooooooo

That evening, in the library, Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen seemed to want to give her advice, to say something, but decided to keep quiet and let her be. When she was done with her work for the day, she remained in the library, making sketches of the Jedi Temple as she remembered it and marking places like the council room or the masters' lounge with crosses, where all things of importance would be discussed by the masters. This she knew for a fact. She spent many years at the Jedi Temple and she knew how things worked.

They watched her do this with the corner of their eyes and they even stealthily stretched out their senses toward her, trying to see what she was doing. She could have easily done this in her own chambers, but for some reason she chose to remain here, in the library. Perhaps it was because she wanted them to see what she was doing and to let them know that she was getting ready for the mission very diligently. Trembling with excitement, she filled several parchments with sketches until she felt she put everything she could remember on paper. She rose with an air of finality, gathered her sketches and turned to Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen, who looked up from their work.

"Well, good night," she said. "I am going to read in my bed. I feel too tired to sit."

As she walked toward her chambers, a profound feeling of satisfaction began to fill her. She was no longer trotting after them; now this important mission was hers alone. This did wonders for her self-esteem which seemed to become an endangered species when she trained with the two of them. Envy was pushed aside so that she could devote herself to her own work and do her best, but she could not deny that the feeling was still there. As she dropped the scrolls on her bed and made a move to undress, a thought appeared in her weary mind. The following moment, she left her chambers and practically ran to the Dark Lord's tower.

She ran through the maze of narrow corridors leading to the hall with the statue of the Sith Lord of the Second Age and began to climb the stairs leading up, trying to be as quiet as possible. There was a faint glimmer of light coming from the Dark Lord's study and she lifted her hand to knock. Biting her lip and feeling that she was about to be shouted at or that her ideas would be deemed as completely crazy, she knocked. There was a faint answer after a few seconds and she gently opened to door and peered inside.

"Come on in, then," she heard his muffled voice.

She did so and lowered herself on the floor when she closed the door behind her.

"I am sorry to disturb you, my Master," she said very quietly, staring at the floor. "But I... I had to see you."

"Rise," she heard his quiet voice. She got to her feet, searching for him with her glance. She spotted him sitting behind his table and looking at her with a mask-alike expression.

"I... I have a question," she said. "It has not occurred to me before, but as you said I should leave at dawn and as it is very important that I know..."

"Sit down, my apprentice," he said curtly. She bowed to him, not daring to look at him anymore, and quickly sat down, interlacing her fingers nervously in her lap.

"I know you have not taught me how to cloak myself in the Dark side yet," she said nervously, clasping and unclasping her hands. "But I confess... I was curious... I asked Lady Tarralyanna to show me. I tried – and she said that it was a good beginning. I thought that this technique would be very useful in my mission."

He regarded her in silence, after what she heard the creak of his chair. The following moment there was a poof, indicating he was lighting his pipe. She waited for him to say something, deciding that it would be a very bad idea to go on talking. He could hear what she was thinking anyway.

"There is no proof that the Jedi cannot sense one's presence, despite of the cloaking in the Force," he said seriously, watching her, what was making her very nervous. "The two Jedi Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen tried it on were not powerful masters. They felt nothing – but my apprentices have also kept well out of sight, even though they have cloaked themselves. But we do not know what would happen if one would cloak himself in front of a powerful Jedi master, who is attuned to the fine breathing of the Force."

"I am aware of the danger, my Master," Tyananna said quickly, staring at her hands. "But it is a dangerous mission and I might need it. I might try it out on a Padawan – and see how it works."

"Is this why you came?" he asked, rearranging the items on his table. "I do not think so."

Tyananna tried to say something, but failed. Yet again, he was right. She really wanted to see him, that was why she came.

"As a matter of fact," he said with a hint of a smile. Tyananna breathed with relief. She was certain he was not very pleased about her coming here, the more with the fact she just confessed she tried to illegally learn an advanced Dark technique. "I have completed your planetary attributions chart."

He turned in his chair and waved a hand toward a shelf, a scroll zooming into his outstretched fist. She was surprised that he mentioned it, thinking he was too busy to devote his time to something like that.

"It is very interesting. I shall give it to you now, so that you would be able to study it while you travel. Certain things are as expected – you have great predispositions for becoming a Sith. Most of these characteristics, as you will note, have been dormant throughout most of your life. You have repressed them, tried to control them; you have been ashamed of them and tried to adopt Jedi qualities instead. Needless to say that it was in vain, for this is who you really are."

He unrolled the scroll and looked down at it. Tyananna straightened up and stared at his hands with unhidden curiosity.

"However, there are certain things which are surprising," he went on, the corner of his thin mouth twitching. "Quah'Ree... I am only beginning to realise you have a talent for music. Until now you contented yourself with reading poetry but never tried to write it yourself. Music and art are beautiful tools with which one can express oneself and one should never underestimate them."

"But, there is something else, something I have never seen before," he went on, grinding the end of his pipe, and blowing smoke over the parchment. "J'Ylah, the smallest and the most mysterious planet of our binary system, the twelfth planet. The Sith of old believed that it was associated with sacrifice, with death and rebirth, with the great mysteries of life, such as passing into the Force and incarnating again. I might be able to speak to the discarnate Sith Lords, but there is a lot they cannot tell me about the existence in the beyond. Thus this intrigues me."

"What does it mean, my Master?" Tyananna asked quietly.

"In my opinion, it means that you are quite familiar with death, more than Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen. Oh, they might tell you otherwise – they had many close brushes with it and one of the most obvious examples is Lord Tammutyen's accident, the time when he lost his humanity. But by familiarity I do not mean actual encounters with death – but the ability to cause death within you, willingly. You sacrifice yourself and everything that is sacred to you without thinking. Your way of functioning is immediately redefined, in the light of this change, and you focus your attention on other things and adapt. This comes natural to you, whereas for Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna the matter was not so straightforward before the Ceremony of the Coming. They had something to lose and they denounced it willingly, for my sake, and for the sake of the Dark side. But you do not. You have not experienced the Ceremony of the Coming yet – and yet death, or such drastic changes which define your being, are something that you undergo without thinking about it. You understand such changes and you adapt – in a way a human being is not supposed to understand them."

"What I am telling might either elucidate a great deal or confuse you further," he went on. "I have seen your sacrifices. And I have considered them as eagerness. But they are more than that."

He put down the scroll and carefully rolled it up.

"Now I understand some things about you better," he said thoughtfully. "I learned yet again never to to judge the book by its covers, even if seen through the eyes of the Dark side. Through the eyes of the Dark side, when I first looked at you, I have not seen much. I have seen talent, yes; and great Force-sensitivity which has not been trained or developed in either side of the Force. But you were not so special to be awarded to me as my apprentice."

He interlaced his fingers on the table and looked at her with curiosity in his dark eyes. This was perhaps the first time she has ever seen him look at her like that. The superiority so characteristic of him was still there; but with this gesture he was admitting that there was something he learned about her what confused him. Him, the Dark Lord.

"But the Dark side has chosen you," he said quietly. "I know my duty. Thus I have begun to teach you, treating you as an individual, and adapting my teachings to your personality. I could not explain some things about you to myself, but I did not bother to. At the time I have been very busy. But I have been reminded of my duty as a teacher, as your Master in the Dark side, to think about it. I have made this chart a week ago."

"One of the things I was so surprised with was the fact that you accepted me and the Dark side so quickly," he went on. "One can act as my apprentice and still have his mind elsewhere. But your thoughts were always focused on your work and you adapted to the change very quickly. You constantly analyse your actions and you work on your development at all times. I might expect such behaviour from Lady Tarralyanna, for instance; but she grew up with me. She had ample time to learn."

"But you also think very often about me. And I know you consider me more than just your teacher," he added, watching her closely.

Tyananna bowed her head. She always felt so _naked_ in front of him and he often bared her soul without a flinch.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of," he said softly. "I was very young when I forsook my Jedi ways. I was awarded the throne of Gotan, but it did not satisfy me. Becoming a king could not satisfy me. I wanted more – I knew there was more, and I craved after it."

"Emptiness and disappointment have driven me to the fringe of madness. I tried to behave like everyone else, I searched for pleasure, only to find that it would wear off after a while, like an effect of a drug. But imagine what happened to such a man, who had nothing to live for, when he came across the spirit of a Sith Lord, who announced that he was the one he was waiting for? I was desperate enough to accept my apprenticeship, even though I did not know what it would encompass. But after a year, it became apparent to me that he gave my life a meaning. I have found my purpose in my training. Thus, upon the completion of my training, I have constructed an obelisk for him, erected it in his honour – you must have seen it – as a reminder of all he has given me and what his tutoring meant to me."

Tyananna sniffed. That was exactly how she felt about him. He gave her a chance to start a new life and though she realised he was not the Dark side, sometimes she did equal him with the Dark side and its power.

"I imagine that is how it was for you as well," he went on thoughtfully. "You had a life, far from it; and many would call it a wonderful, honourable life of a Jedi. But you deep within you were unhappy. You were not satisfied with everything you accomplished. It seemed wrong. You would have become a Jedi master, eventually, and you would have had a good life. But you would have been an average Jedi master. Do you know why? Because you were not meant to be a Jedi – you were meant to be a Sith. You are perhaps older than I would have liked my student to be, but the Dark side has brought you to me and all your previous experiences as a Jedi must count for something. You might have been a mediocre Jedi master, but I shall forge you into a powerful Sith."

"I have spoken to my master's spirit and asked him why he has not told me so many things about you," he said, shaking his head.

Tyananna felt flattered that he actually spoke to his master about her and listened breathlessly.

"He said that the Dark side was waiting," the Dark Lord went on. "That it was watching you. However, as soon as it sensed you serving it diligently, my master told me that it accepted you. So, you see, even with fate... some things are not certain."

He looked up and smiled at her puzzled expression.

"No Sith is the same," he said, "as the Jedi believe. And the Jedi try so very hard to be like each other and develop according to the same mould. It is wrong. Simply because there are no two people who are alike, human or inhuman. You have not liked Lord Tammutyen – you believed he was cruel, remorseless, arrogant and selfish. You have not liked Lady Tarralyanna – you believed she was emotionally empty, cold and ridiculously attached to the laws of logic. You got to know them a little better now. But are you a carbon copy of either of them? You are so very different – and yet there is no doubt you are a Sith."

"On your mission, you shall encounter many obstacles and problems, but you must approach them cool and composed. You must remember that you can use your will to shape the world and never allow the world to manipulate you. No matter where you are, Darkness will be with you and it will assist you."

"You have been trained well," he said, straightening up and glancing over her muscular figure. "And the knowledge you gained while you lived at the Jedi Temple shall be of use to you now. Now, show me what is it that you have tried to learn in secret – and I shall tell you what I think about it."

His remarks and his corrections on her technique were not so serious as she expected them to be. Either her work was amazingly good (what she doubted) or he did not think that there was time for any more extensive training. Either way, Tyananna left his study with a strange feeling in her stomach, wondering whether she should really try something like that at all. It was not good enough, she thought, and would land me in trouble. I will just have to think of something else.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The ground shook ominously as a single rider riding a tall black horse streaked past the silent mountain lakes, over the hills and across rivers, advancing through the darkness of the Fifth Season.

She was perhaps the only rider in the circumference of ten miles. No one wanted to wander about during the Fifth Season unless it was not absolutely necessary. But the Sith felt no fear before darkness and her eyes seemed to adapt to it. She had the Heh'Glah star to guide her but also a compass, which Lady Tarralyanna gave to her and a little map she made for her without her asking her to do this. She marked her itinerary in red ink and Tyananna had no difficulty in following it. Her Nan'Tha galloped hard and the ground shook under his hooves. The horse was delighted with this unexpected excursion and showed no sign of weariness. The Dark side, with which his rider surrounded herself often to inspect her surroundings, seemed to agree with him. In those instances his long legs seemed to plough harder and the black horse carried his rider as though she was nothing more than a feather sitting on his strong back.

Nights were quiet and peaceful. Tyananna would sit beside the fire and stare at the scroll given to her by her Master upon her departure. She asked Lady Tarralyanna to lend her her notes on the twelve planets and she studied them whenever she took a break. Now she was sitting leaned against a tree, her eyes half-closed and open to the Dark side, in case someone came her way. She looked down on Lady Tarralyanna's notes and smiled. Her notes were certainly were helpful and concise, not to mention her neat handwriting.

She kept the habit of drinking tea before going to sleep, something she would do at the Temple, and it was a little breath of home so far away from it. Her glance fell on her M'Hoor and she nodded to herself gravely. Many times she would get up earlier than she had to and practise with it, as though thinking her abilities and skills would wear off with every mile further away from the Sith Temple. Her Nan'Tha was slowly advancing across the clearing where she was camping, in search of grass of better quality, and carelessly swishing with his long tail, his black coat covered in sweat and dirt.

/Flashback

Tyananna did not sleep at all the night prior to her departure. When it became apparent to her that she should get up instead of trying to sleep, she started packing. Slowly she began to pack her things in her saddlebags, coming back to her chambers a few times to check whether she forgot something. But when she managed to strap everything down to her horse and was just trying to squeeze in an extra sword, a pair of hands caught her around the waist from the behind. A pair of very cold hands.

"We know you are ready," said a voice into her ear.

She turned around, meaning to say something, but the following moment she felt Lord Tammutyen's cold lips on hers. Breathless and startled, she stood pressed against him, breathing in the spicy scent which always hovered around him, making her dizzy. At length she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling that his kiss was very welcome. When she broke the kiss, he glanced over her and extended his hand with something in it.

"I have made it some time ago," he said, pointing.

It was a dagger. Its blade was slightly curved and the hilt seemed as though it was made of bone.

"It cuts through the hardest hide," he said. "You will undoubtedly find it very useful."

He smiled at her and stepped aside to allow Lady Tarralyanna pass through. To her surprise, she embraced her as well and kissed her on the cheek.

"Here," she said, extending a handful of papers to her. "These are my notes you asked for. You are quite right, you should not waste time on idling while you take breaks – and this is perfect thing to read before going to bed."

Going to bed with a book was exactly the thing Lady Tarralyanna would do. She did not ask her to lend her her notes because she had nothing to read before she went to bed – but because she wanted to learn as much as possible about the planetary attributions. After everything the Dark Lord told her, she could not wait to start reading.

"I have marked your itinerary in red," Lady Tarralyanna went on, pulling out a scroll. "Just follow it and you will not lose your way."

She lowered her compass gently into her hand and smiled at her.

Tyananna nodded, listening to her instructions. She packed everything they gave her and mounted her horse. The two Sith nodded at her seriously from the ground. Tyananna looked toward the Dark Lord's tower with yearning, but it was veiled in darkness. Surely he was still asleep. But as it were, a pair of dark eyes was watching her from behind a curtain.

"May the mighty Darkness be with you, Tyananna," Lady Tarralyanna said softly.

Tyananna nodded at her, turned her Nan'Tha, and rode through the gate, which gently closed behind her. As she followed the path leading toward the capital city of Gotan, she felt tears in her eyes.

/end flashback

She passed by the border of the Kingdom of Quentaa the day before. She was pretty certain of this because she saw a strangely shaped, rocky hill in the scanty light of the star glowing above her which Lady Tarralyanna marked on the map as "Hunchback's Refuge" in Sith. Tomorrow she would ride for eight hours, she decided, before stopping for lunch, because that day she already wasted enough time on finding the means to cross a torrential river. She put Lady Tarralyanna's notes away and once again picked up her Master's calculations. He was right. According to his calculations, she had the same predispositions for becoming a Sith as the ones Lady Tarralyanna explained to her that day in the mountains. But the twelfth planet, associated with death and rebirth? What could it possibly mean?

At least the Dark Lord seemed to understand it in some way and he was impressed with it. It almost felt as though the whole of her life at the Sith Temple has been too good to be true and as though this would be her last mission. She shook off those ominous thoughts, put away the scroll and sprawled on the ground, closing her eyes. She often thought about reaching out to her Master through the Dark side, or to Lady Tarralyanna or Lord Tammutyen – but she thought better of it. She did not want to sound desperate or that she was thinking about anything else except her mission. But the truth was, her mission was the last thing on her mind. It was wrong, she knew, but she could not help herself.

The Sith seemed to know so much, much more than the Jedi. But was it really so? She knew many wise Jedi and she wondered where they learned what they knew. The only explanation was that this knowledge was passed on only to those higher in hierarchy, possibly masters, or even only to the members of the Council. This was not the case with the Sith. The library, stacked to the ceiling with books and scrolls, contained some of the most valuable documents on the whole of Horukaan – fantastic discoveries, startling new theories about the Cyrron-Luth sun system, shocking historical data and facts no one seemed to know anything about except for the Sith. It was all there, at her reach, and though her Master gave her specific texts to read and study, she could easily take any manuscript she liked and read it at her leisure. Knowledge was there for every Sith and nothing was forbidden, as long as it did not leave the Sith Order.

But now, she felt so utterly alone. She has not felt this alone in years. She knew it was nonsense; that her Master was following her through the Dark side, and that his eyes were watching her. In her solitude, her fears became more pronounced and her doubts in her skill more real. She also knew this was rubbish – but she could not help herself not to feel that way.

Something, however, was worrying her. The Fifth Season should have ended many days ago – but it was still there. She did not know what to make of it. However, she felt the Dark side around her, reacting to her prods and obeying her commands as always and this pacified her. If the Dark side did not seem perturbed, she saw no reason she should be perturbed by this, either. And there was something else. If there was some uncanny force at work, something strange going on, she was certain that her Master would have told her about it. But as it was, he did not. Thus she was certain that everything was in order.

She slept badly. Woken by her anxiety and her thin nerves, she would lie with her eyes open, clutching her M'Hoor with which she slept and wondering whether there was something that woke her, a presence, a strange sound. However, even if her mind was playing tricks on her, there was still her faithful horse, who was sleeping right in front of her. She felt he was more like a watchdog than anything else and his presence was indeed welcome. She often spoke to him in Sith because Nan'Tha, along with all other Sith horses, understood simple commands in Sith. But Tyananna felt that he could understand her in general and was grateful for his company. She never had a horse of her own and Nan'Tha, with his shining black coat, dark eyes and thick mane was the most beautiful horse she ever set her eyes on. And he was hers. As soon as she told Peetah which name she had given him, she found it written on the door of his stall.

She made an important decision, however. She would make a detour to Mangora. She wanted to ask the Mangora Droddians whether they observed anything out of the ordinary going on with the Jedi but she also wanted to leave her good horse in their keeping. The Jedi Temple was not far from the laargest Mangora mine, where she was heading, and she could easily walk across the hills she once walked across, in her quest of looking for the ore for her Jalá sword. She thought for a moment whether she should ask for permission to do this. But the more she thought about it, the more it seemed to her that there would be many things which would not be planned and that she could not possibly report all of them. Her Master trusted her to make the best choice and the thought filled her with pride.

Thus one evening she found herself on the outskirts of the underground dwellings of the Mangora Droddians and rode across the arid valley to the entrance. She jumped off her horse a little away from the entrance to the mine, her hand resting on the hilt of her short sword. She thought it would be terribly rude for her to walk with an unsheathed sword, but she realised this was her fear talking. There was nothing about the Mangora Droddians she had to be afraid of, as they were her Master's passionate allies. She jumped a little as she thought something moved and closed her eyes, annoyed, reaching out to the Dark side. She would use the Dark side to show her the way and not her stupid human eyesight which was seeing monsters everywhere.

She expected guards, of course, and did not jump when a pair of muscular Droddian warriors stepped out of the shadows, brandishing their axes. For Mangora Droddians, axes were certainly weapons which were frequently used.

"Hail, warriors of Mangora," she said in her lousy Droddian, saluting to them in a Droddian fashion. "I come to speak to the great warrior Ruthok."

She did not know what she would say when she arrived there and the words just flew right out of her mouth. She was asking to see their chief at once and she wondered at her own dare. She could have kicked herself. The Droddian warriors stared at her, surprised with such an arrogant approach, but then spotted the crest of Gotan which was gleaming on her Nan'Tha's chest. They barked out a sentence Tyananna did not understand and glanced over her. Wearing a sad'khai under her wide, black cloak, armed to teeth and also carrying her M'Hoor on her back (and after Lord Tammutyen's adventure in Gangar, all Droddian allies got extremely interested in the story of his Ptah, the terrible two-bladed weapon), they easily guessed who she was.

"The Sith Lord sent you?" asked one.

Tyananna lowered her hood and nodded seriously.

"You give your horse to me, Sith warrior," said one, coming toward her, whereas the other one disappeared in the mine, to notify Ruthok of her arrival.

She was about to tell him how she wanted her horse to be treated, but she let go of the reins at once. She should not show she cared for the horse. Besides, Nan'Tha could take care of himself. Should anything displease him, he would certainly kick about and raise alarm and the Droddians were not likely to harm him, knowing he belonged to her. The Droddian reached out for the reins and bowed to her.

"Do you bring news?" he asked in a quiet tone, apparently wishing to ask her this while they were still alone. "New orders?"

"I shall tell that to your ruler," she said coldly, though for a moment she was tempted to say she was on a mission, heading to the Jedi Temple. The Droddian glanced curiously over her, but in the end he nodded, backing away, still holding the reins of her horse. Nan'Tha did not seem to like the idea that he would be separated from his mistress and flared his nostrils threateningly, stomping the ground with his hooves. The Droddian warrior stood aback, staring at him and trying not to show his unease. Nan'Tha was, after all, a very big and strong horse.

("Easy, Nan'Tha,") Tyananna said, reaching out for his head. The horse closed his eyes in delight. ("It is all right"). She rubbed his snout once again, took the reins and handed them over to the Droddian. The horse understood. For some reason his mistress wanted him to go with this smelly human and he would honour her wishes.

"Now it will go with you," she said, giving a sharp nod and crossing her hands on her chest. The Droddian warrior disappeared with her horse, keeping Nan'Tha at a distance, however. Chuckling to herself as she remembered her Master's remark on the issue of Droddian fear, Tyananna waited in the shadows of the pillars, until three warriors appeared and greeted her.

"Chief Ruthok is waiting for you, Sith warrior," said the foremost one.

They all bowed to her and watched her pass them by with her chin high, her sword clanking audibly as she walked. This certainly elevated her spirits. She was treated with respect and it made her feel better. As strange and as illogical as it was, she thought that an errand which began in such a way could not go wrong.

She has never been to one of the Mangora mines. She passed through a wide underground passageway, illuminated by torches, and came to stand at the top of a flight of long, wide stairs which were leading steeply downwards. She suppressed a gasp at the sight and began to descend them, following the Mangora warriors. The ceiling was some fifty feet high and the vast, majestic hall was ablaze with the glow of hundreds of torches. She did not know anything about Mangora, she was now certain. She certainly did not expect something as impressive as this.

The stairs ended on a broad landing and Tyananna could see thick chains extending into the dark pit below, which were a part of the machinery the Droddians used to lift their ore. She spotted a few empty lorries, along with a few idling donkeys and Droddians who stared at her. A wide bridge, built out of stone, lead across the pit. Enormous hooks and pulleys hung everywhere and she concluded that the mines were somewhere deep down, whereas the Droddians lived here. She followed the warriors through another passageway and into another hall. The first thing she saw was a large banner of Mangora, which hung on the balcony high above it. It showed two hills, one larger and one smaller, done in black. The sky was painted yellow and above it there were two dots, indicating two suns. A hammer and an axe, crossed, were painted under it, and there was a line in Droddian underneath which read: "The Great Underground Lords of Mangora".

She was lead aside and ascended narrow, filthy stairs which led straight into a high-ceilinged room where Ruthok, the Lord of Mangora, sat. As soon as her black figure loomed up in sight, he got to his feet.

"Sith warrior, welcome," he said, bowing to her, unable to hide his enthusiasm. He was certain that she was here to deliver news and hoped that the Dark Lord wanted them to go to war.

"Tyananna of the Sith," he said. "Yes, I remember you name."

"I wish to speak to you alone," she said before she could think about what she was saying. Again, she could kick herself for it. What has gotten into her? "For this is a matter of great importance."

Ruthok glanced around himself and then clapped his hands loudly, pointing commandingly toward the door. The few warriors who escorted her there left with salutes, closing the tall door behind them and casting last, quick glances of interest at her. The hall sank into silence.

"The Dark Lord has sent me on a mission," she said after she was offered a seat at a large table made out of stone. Everything in Mangora seemed to be either made of stone or metal, she thought. To make such a bridge, to construct those pulleys... the Droddians of Mangora were very crafty and their skill, judging according to what the Jedi taught her about them, has never been appreciated. She felt great respect for the Lords of the Underground, as they called themselves. "It concerns the Jedi. Thus I was certain you could help me."

Ruthok's dark face revealed that he was shocked with this and that he did not expect it the least. But the following moment his eyes flashed with unhidden enthusiasm. He seemed to easily understand her, despite of her horrible Droddian. I am speaking Droddian, she thought! And Droddians can understand me and speak back.

"Anything you might require, Tyananna of the Sith," he said, unable to suppress the malicious grin which appeared on his face. "Surely you are hungry."

"For now wine would be welcome after my long journey," she said.

Ruthok stood up and brought a large flagon of wine, placing a beautiful goblet before her.

"First I should want to know whether there has been anything strange going on around the Jedi Temple," she said, having taken a sip of her wine. It was sour and very strong – but she liked it on the whole.

"They come and go," Ruthok said, unable to hide the hatred in his voice. "As always. They do not mind us, treat us like vermin. As though we do not exist."

"Have they ridden out since the beginning of the Fifth Season?" she asked.

She never thought that the Droddians of Mangora were treated badly by the Jedi. She simply thought they were miners who liked to keep to themselves and never really thought that they felt oppressed or that the presence of the Jedi was bothering them in any way. It simply seemed that they did not notice them. But now she learned the truth.

Ruthok furrowed his brow. Either he did not go out himself, she thought with an inward laugh, or he was thinking about it very hard.

"Now that you have mentioned it, Tyananna of the Sith," he said thoughtfully, plucking at his beard, "No. I have not seen any of them since darkness fell."

"Do they normally roam the hills during the Fifth Season?" she asked.

She did not know what made her say it. But this time she did not wish to kick herself for a change. She used to be a Jedi and she knew very well that the Jedi always carried on with their work, Fifth Season or not. Masters often rode out with their apprentices or sometimes Padawans to practise out in the open. But not to leave the Temple in more than thirty days... well, that was strange. With this question she wanted to show that she had absolutely no idea about the Jedi and their habits.

"Oh, yes," Ruthok said, nodding. "But they never come close to our mines. They know better than that."

"That is strange," she said. "What is so different about this Fifth Season?"

"I can help you there, Sith warrior," he said, suddenly remembering something. "For I have sent a dozen warriors to hunt for bears a week ago – we were preparing a feast here, in the honour of Rhathah. While they hunted they must have come close enough to the Jedi Temple and they would be able to say what the Jedi were up to. I shall send for them."

Tyananna nodded and Ruthok opened the door, issuing orders to the warriors who were standing there.

"We heard about Sith weapons," Ruthok said as he came back. "We heard about a strange weapon with which a Sith warrior killed half a dozen of warriors of Gangar with it. Do you carry it as well?"

Tyananna smiled at the Lord of Underground.

"Ptah is Lord Tammutyen's weapon," she said. "I use the M'Hoor. But it is actually similar in its construction."

"Who makes your weapons, then, Sith warrior?" Ruthok asked, staring at the scabbard with unhidden curiosity. "The Sith Lord?"

"Oh, no," she said, giving a sly smile. "We make our own weapons."

"So this Ptah was Lord Tammutyen's idea?" Ruthok asked, his eyes flashing.

"There are many Sith weapons to choose from," Tyananna said, leaning aback, feeling absolutely and completely drunk with her feeling of self-importance. "Our Master decides which weapon would be most suitable for us and then we make it."

"I see," Ruthok said. "I find Sith weapons fascinating. The story of this double-bladed sword became a legend. But Mangora, more than any other Droddian nation, appreciates and values the art of sword-making and weapon-making in general."

"I have noticed," Tyananna said. "I am very impressed with your underground city."

"You are?" Ruthok asked, glowing. "You have not seen the heart of it yet! I shall show it to you."

"Oh, I am afraid I cannot afford to lose time," she said a little sadly. She would have loved to see the rest of the underground city, but she knew she had a mission waiting for her. "I need to go to the Jedi Temple, you see."

"I have a solution to that," Ruthok said enthusiastically. "Our City spreads to the other side of this hill – therefore you would be taking a very good short-cut, should you choose to pass through our City."

"Well, in that case..." Tyananna said, delighted. She felt a little uncomfortable sitting with the sword on her back, but she did not want to put it aside for the life of her. During her travels she found that Nan'Tha was a substitute for human company and that her M'Hoor was a reminder of everything she learned at the Sith Temple, a weapon she felt comfortable with. While she held it in her hands she could almost hear her Master's voice, giving her instructions.

Ruthok's eyes travelled across the scabbard and it seemed as though he was about to try his luck and ask her to show it to him, but at that precise moment the door opened and a dozen warriors trooped in, saluting. Ruthok tore his glance away from the scabbard and beckoned to them. They approached him, stealing glances of Tyananna, who sat with her chin high, staring back at them.

"The Sith warrior wants you to tell her about your trip to the hills," Ruthok said gruffly. "Whether you have seen any Jedi, where and when; whether you have seen something unusual going on at their Temple; and what you have observed in general."

The warriors shifted on their feet, exchanging glances, obviously tacitly agreeing on who would speak for the whole group.

"We have seen no Jedi outside their temple, though we have come close enough," said one, coming forward and fixing his glance upon Tyananna. His glance travelled over the long scabbard resting on her back. Their obsession with Sith weapons seemed to be contagious.

"There were a few, however, standing beside the northern gate," the warrior went on carefully. "It looked as though they were waiting for something. I do not know whether this is their usual behaviour, but perhaps the Sith warrior does."

"The Sith warrior does not know anything about what is normal for the Jedi," Ruthok snorted with contempt. "Do not be insolent! Tell her everything you have seen."

Tyananna felt the urge to grind broadly, but kept her face straight.

"Their courtyard was well illuminated by torches," the warrior went on quickly. "But there was no one walking about, except for the few who stood by the gate."

"Were they talking?" Tyananna asked suddenly, inclining her head. "Were they young or old?"

"There were four or five of them, as I remember," the said warrior, unsurprised with the fact that she spoke Droddian. The Sith, he felt, could do anything. "And they were talking quietly. And yes, they were older. There was an Albinian man with a long white beard standing with them."

Quallath, she thought! Well, this is a useful bit of information. It could not have been anyone else, but master Quallath. She might have asked several more questions, but they would imply she knew a lot about the Jedi Temple and so she nodded, turning away from the warriors when they said that this was all they knew. Was the potential loss of information worth the feeling of joy she felt making them beliebe she knew nothing about the Jedi?

"Well, we shall take care of your stallion well enough while you are away, Tyananna of the Sith," Ruthok said once the door closed behind the warriors. "It is one remarkable specimen of its sort. I can send as many warriors with you as you like..."

"That will not be necessary," Tyananna said, waving an airy hand. She was surprised with her own arrogance. "It is my mission; my work; my task."

"Of course," Ruthok said, nodding. "I meant no offence. We must waste no time. I shall only offer you a bit of something to eat, before we depart. There is no time for a feast, surely; but I am certain you must be hungry."

Tyananna sighed and thought about her last meal. She ate two days ago. She climbed an orange tree and shook down a whole handful of them, eating them as she rode on. She ran out of them some time ago and her stubbornness and desire to fulfil her mission, not wishing to stop for the sake of having a meal, forced her to ride on and ignore the rumbling of her stomach.

"I eat no meat," she said.

"Strange," Ruthok said, lifting an eyebrow. It occurred to him that perhaps the Sith Lord forbade them to eat meat so that once they ate it, they would feel a lot stronger than usual, as a sort of preparation for battle. That would be logical, he felt. "Well, I have something else for you. I daresay you will like it."

Tyananna opened her mouth to ask what he had in mind, but Ruthok had already turned in his seat and clapped his hands. In no less than ten minutes, during which Ruthok spoke about his City and how deep the mines went, a tray arrived.

"This," Ruthok said, uncovering it, "is Banga. It is a mushroom which grows in the depths of the City. It does not grow everywhere, as it once used to, as the City is now well populated. But I always keep a private store of it for myself – goes very well with wild boar, you see."

Tyananna leaned forward with sudden interest and sniffed. The mushrooms were as large as saucers, grey and black, shaped like sea shells, and they smelled like her dirty socks after a long training. But, it was food. And to her surprise, the mushrooms, despite their smell, tasted wonderful.

With an ample meal in her stomach she felt much better and left the hall with Ruthok. She only yearned for Sith coffee and thought about the little package which was still in one of her saddlebags. But she did not want to make them think she was spoiled.

Ruthok presented a pair of strange animals to her, saying that they were faster than donkeys and able to climb stairs and cross bridges without difficulty. They resembled reptilians, she thought as she mounted one, settling down in a comfortable saddle made out of fur. The animals had smart little eyes, whereas their short, grey, leathery ears were swivelling around in every direction conceivable with great speed and the sheer sight of them spinning was making her dizzy. However, they were very obedient, she noted as she picked up the simplified reins and spurred her animal. They moved strangely and it was nothing like riding a horse. Ruthok and she, along with four more warriors who acted as escort, headed deeper into the City.

They rode through another underground passageway and emerged into a hall similar to the first one. However, this hall now resembled a city and not a mine. Tyananna could see little bridges which lead across dark pits, spiral flights of stairs leading up and down and narrow streets. She saw Droddian women leading children by the hand, dressed exactly as Droddian men. Their black hair was matted and was sticking out at strange angles. Donkeys were carrying heavy loads, led by Droddians who laughed loudly but who fell silent as the ruler of the City rode past them. Small Droddian children were dressed in hide and were playing with real daggers, which looked like swords in their small hands. The ceiling was not so high here and everything seemed to be made of stone. Tyananna also noted that everything was tiny. The houses were small, according to her standards, and the stairs, which lead up to house entrances were very narrow. The bridges, leading to simplified gardens where the Mangorians were growing vegetables, were narrow and dusty, without any handrails, which was obviously how bridges were built in Mangora. One of the stone benches placed alongside of the main street was occupied by but two elderly Droddians smoking clay pipes who were immersed in a conversation.

Strange music which was mostly drumming was coming from what looked like a bar, and in her passing, Tyananna saw three Droddians sitting before many drums, using their hands (palms and fists) to produce music. One of them also played some sort of a flute and one was singing. Tyananna noted that he was actually a she and that she was singing in a deep and harsh voice, which made Tyananna mistake her for a man. She never heard Droddian music before. But she liked it on the whole. Though she thought she would not be able to listen to it for a very long time – it was somehow too simple and too cheerful for her taste.

They rode across a short, wide bridge under which she could see the dark pit again. Could one see mines from up here, from the City? When she asked Ruthok about this, he nodded.

"Oh, yes," he said. "The holes act as air vents; otherwise the air would become too stale, you see. The mines go deep and are wider than our City. They have been made by our ancestors, but we are still digging ore at the eastern side of it. There is still something to dig. However, we made exits wherever we could, so that the air could come in from the outside, and we concealed them with shrubs and rocks. For someone who does not know where or what they are, he would never be able to guess they were entrances to our City."

The more they advanced through the City, the less houses and dwellings she could see. However, she saw a broad plantation in one of the halls they passed through. It stretched from the side of the street into darkness. It seemed to be as vast as the space would allow it and the vegetables which grew here obviously did not require light.

"Supplies," Ruthok said as he noticed what she was staring at. "I have ordered these to be made ten years ago, in case of occupation. I want to be ready for everything. My people have suffered enough."

"Chief Ruthok," she said, turning to him. "The time of your suffering is nearing its end. We shall go to war; and your people shall be able to live wherever they want to. My Master is merciful to those who are loyal to him, but he is ruthless to his foes."

Ruthok grinned broadly at her, choosing not to look goofy happy, which was how he actually felt.

"I do not have much," he said quietly as his animal gave a strange wail which made Tyananna jump. "But I shall give all that I have to him. For I have seen him as our deliverer; as a force which shall put the world straight."

"Quite so," Tyananna said, smiling at him broadly under her hood.

She remembered the ancient Sith custom to always walk with a hood on while around non-Sith and was now honouring it – even the custom of wearing gloves.

They arrived to the end of another hall, which was a sort of a crossroad. Three tunnels lead in different directions with torches illuminating the entrances.

"We shall choose the tunnel which will lead you to the Jedi Temple. This one," Ruthok said, pointing at one of the tunnels.

It was narrow but wide enough for Ruthok to ride alongside of her. Water dripped from the ceiling and the rhythmical sound of dripping echoed the ancient tunnel. There was no light here, no torches, as it was the case in all other parts of the City, which was glowing under the lights of hundreds and hundreds of torches, making it appear as though it was broad daylight and compensating for the coldness which would naturally spread through the underground City. However, the warriors who rode as her escort were carrying torches which illuminated the tunnel. The tunnel itself was crudely made, but it seemed very solid.

"These tunnels have been made by the ruler of Mangora who lived two hundred years ago," Ruthok said as she inquired about this. "He risked a great deal by building them, because they might have collapsed any time. But Rennokh was with him and rewarded him for the courage he showed in daring to making them. And when he and his miners emerged on the opposite side of the hill there was a great celebration."

Tyananna laughed, trying to imagine dozens and dozens of Droddians jumping up and down in sunlight like children.

"Why make them?" she asked.

The question took Ruthok by surprise. He seemed to be thinking about how to phrase his answer while Tyananna listened to the scoffing sound the animals were making as they advanced further down the tunnel. She also tried to listen to his thoughts through the Dark side. They were confused, she noted, trying to catch something definite. This was something her Master warned her about – at times people's thoughts were disorganised and erratic and a Sith listening to them could not do much, except to wait for a clearer thought to appear.

"It was something that has never been done before and he wanted to be the one to accomplish it," he said at length. "And it made him a hero of his race."

So, Tyananna thought with an inward laugh, they hated the feeling of helplessness by being trapped inside the hill and wanted to have exits in case the main entrance collapses. She could understand that. The Droddians of Mangora have not been living underground for more than a couple of centuries.

They ascended a few stone stairs and the tunnel took a sharp left turn. As they rode, she noted that the tunnel was getting steeper and steeper. It was not long before she saw bits of roots protruding from the ceiling. She felt a gentle breeze brushing against her cheek and sniffed.

"Ah, we are nearing the end of the tunnel," Ruthok said.

The warriors ahead of them dismounted their animals and illuminated a gaping hole with their torches.

"There," Ruthok said, sounding pleased. "That is the way out. Here is a torch for you."

"It shall not be needed," Tyananna said, dismounting her animal and giving it a pat on the leathery neck. She turned and looked back at Ruthok, who was still sitting in the saddle. "The Sith see very well in darkness."

Ruthok nodded, obviously deciding not to offer her any more help, because he thought this Sith warrior might consider it offensive.

"I thank you for all of your assistance, Chief Ruthok," Tyananna said. "You have been most helpful. I shall continue my journey on my own from here. May the Darkness be with you."

She turned around and squeezed through the small hole leading out, leaving stunned faces behind her. She used the Droddian word for 'darkness', meaning 'night', as no other language but the Sith had as many words for darkness as there were needed. But as much as her farewell words confused Ruthok, he quickly grasped their meaning. The Sith dwell in darkness, he thought as he rode back to the City – thus this meant the Sith warrior wished him well. He was very pleased with himself and the development of the situation in general. He arrived back to the heart of the City quite certain that the Sith warrior was impressed and pleased with the welcome she received in his City and that she would most certainly tell the Sith Lord about it.


	41. Chapter 40 - Part Three

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

This used to be a single chapter, which I split in two parts. Hence the cliffhanger :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XL – In the Snakes' Nest

Tyananna was delighted when she realised that she just crossed one of the most dangerous hills to cross by passing through the underground City of Mangora. She headed in a swift pace in the direction of the Jedi Temple, her path illuminated by the Heh'Glah star. In a few hours she arrived to the walls of the Temple and settled down to sleep in the forest which surrounded it before she decided how to approach the matter and get inside.

She received a great shock when she woke, however, because what woke her was not Nan'Tha or some strange sound. It was light. Cyrron, the great bluish ball, was rising with dignity in the east and the sheer sight of it made her eyes water. She stared at it from the shadows, a smile slowly dawning on her face. The Fifth Season ended at last and the world passed into the Solid Season once again. Looking around herself, she realised that this was the very forest where she once did her Force exercises when she was a child. Tyananna wrestled her way through the thorny bushes until she could see the white walls of the Jedi Temple below her clearly.

Now, Tyananna had a lot of time to figure out how to get inside. She had many ideas. Her Master did not tell her how to do this and left her hands untied, what she found both regrettable and comforting. She reasoned as follows – she should not attempt any Dark side-cloaking unless there was no other way to accomplish what she wanted and that she should first try it out on someone. Her plan B, in case she got caught – what was not improbable at all – was to get away by stealing one of the horses the Jedi kept in their stables. She knew very well where they were and she could easily snatch a horse and gallop away. She was pretty certain that the Dark Lord knew there was a high probability someone would see her and know who she was and that he would want her to get away using any means possible. It was only a wonder that they managed to keep their existence a secret for so long. Her last resort were of course the Mangora Droddians who would be only too happy to slit a few Jedi throats for her.

So, she thought, staring at the great white walls beneath her, I have come back. This time, however, it was not to go back to her old life which she now considered as inferior and useless, but to bring the Dark side victory and to prove herself worthy to the Dark Lord. This was a world she left far behind, but she had knowledge about it which would aid her in her quest. She watched the young Padawans spill over the green grounds of the Temple. She glanced over them as they threw balls at each other, levitating them and spinning them in the air before them. Has she, Tyananna, gotten so far, to be able to look down upon them and despise them?

To her delight, she spotted several adults coming out, immersed in talk. There was master Quallath, walking with his hands on his back, his long white beard falling down to his belt. The figure which followed him could only be a Caelian.

Tyananna checked and stared, unable to believe her eyes. She withdrew her spyglass from her bag and directed it at the little group of Jedi masters and at the Caelian. He was wearing white robes and was walking very slowly, to make it possible for master Quallath to keep up the pace. They seemed to be talking. Eavesdropping seemed to be a logical plan but Tyananna knew she had to be very careful, because there was no proof master Quallath could not feel the Dark side, even if it was used only for eavesdropping. She took a deep breath and stretched her senses, keeping an eye on master Quallath as she did so in order to be able to note his reaction, if there was any.

She heard words, but they soon died away. Master Quallath paused in his walk, looking around himself. He sensed her, she was sure of it. But she remained hovering right beside him, knowing that if she withdrew all of a sudden, that he would certainly note that something was wrong. She could sense his surprise and for a moment she bated her breath as he stood rooted to the spot, whereas the Caelian stared back at him, wondering what was wrong.

Then, after what seemed like eternity to Tyananna, he shook his head and started off again. Tyananna felt a wave of joy pervade her and concentrated as hard as she could on her task.

"...and we should leave as soon as possible," the Caelian's words penetrated her mind.

"You have left me with more questions than I had before you came, Your Eminence," master Quallath said.

However, he was still skimming with his senses over his surroundings, trying to identify what he felt in that one brief moment, certain that it was someone listening through the Force. What was more, he felt a little strange. As though cold wind brushed against his cheek. No matter, now it was gone and he would think about it later. Now he had Caelians to worry about.

"It is on you to fathom out what this threat is and what all we have told you might mean, warrior of light," the Caelian priest said. There was a thought which flashed across his mind and which left an impression on Tyananna. She saw a group of Caelians bending over something in his mind. What could it mean?

"Oh, I believe I have just felt a cold finger of this threat extend to me," master Quallath said darkly.

Tyananna had the urge to withdraw, but she did not. He sensed her and he was trying to tell her that he knew someone or something was out there, watching him. Did he really know someone was eavesdropping or was he just bluffing?

The Caelian priest departed toward the stables after a few quick words to Quallath, who now remained alone and could devote himself to the task of finding out what this dark finger which touched him was. And in that instant, Tyananna withdrew and stopped using the Dark side completely.

Master Quallath stood with his hands on his back, his eyes closed. Tyananna was certain he was sweeping the woods beyond the Temple with his senses and she hoped that all he could sense was just a person roaming the woods. He could easily mistake her for a Mangora hunter. Suddenly he opened his eyes, turned on his heel, and disappeared in the Temple, without a word to his companions. The threat was far from gone, Tyananna knew. But this was her chance to prove herself and she has just made the first step down the path of glory.

Now Tyananna of the Sith reasoned as follows: master Quallath sensed something out there, something dark and sinister. She supposed that he would probably send a few Jedi to search the woods. If master Quallath supposed there was a Sith out there, who was spying on him, he would also suppose that a Sith might try to actually enter the Temple already that night.

Tyananna naturally decided to make her next move already next morning. It was unlikely that the Jedi would search the forest during the night and it was indeed so. She spent the night wide awake and on alert. However, she could not remain in the forest too long. Eventually she would be discovered.

She knew that the council room was on the last floor in the middle wing – and she could see it clearly from the branch of the tree she was sitting on. She could climb the building, she thought, glancing over the statues placed here and there. She could make a hook. She brought a coil of rope with her and she could use of one statues to climb the wall. It would be hard, not to mention dangerous. If she fell, the Dark side could catch her, but she would blow her cover.

It began to drizzle and Tyananna watched a group of boys who were running across the courtyard, chasing each other and screaming. She wondered whether she should indeed attempt to climb the wall when it got dark, despite of the danger, because she simply could not see how else she could get inside. Sitting so in deep thought and considering her options, she thought of Lord Tammutyen and his inveterate habit of smoking his pipe whenever he wanted to think about something. She could use his pipe right now... In that moment she spotted a young Jedi apprentice who was just gathering his Jedi robes, which were hanging on a clothes line right under his window, not to get wet. Slowly, a smile dawned on her face. She would become a Jedi. Once again.

The plan was madness, she had to confess to herself. But it was something that the Jedi would never even consider and thus there was a high probability that it would actually work. There were so many Padawans that it was impossible for all Jedi teachers to remember all of them. She would steal robes and dress as a Jedi. Once she was inside, she would have many more opportunities to actually eavesdrop on a meeting. She took one last sip of her coffee, gathered her things, climbed a tree and left everything she did not need right now on a broad branch. If she succeeded, she would come back for her things. Now all of her knowledge about the Jedi and their customs would come in very useful.

She did not want to leave her M'Hoor behind, even though it was large and hard to carry. She kept only one dagger in her belt, the one Lord Tammutyen gave to her. She watched as the sun of Luth finally began to set, her eyes twinkling fanatically. Lord Tammutyen could never be able to do this, she thought – his broad shoulders would give him away, along with his deadly pale skin. Lady Tarralyanna would have been spotted instantly as well. But Tyananna... she glanced over herself. She could blend in. Apart from her flat chest and her muscular back, she only had her hair to worry about, but she could easily solve that problem, too. Then she was struck with yet another brilliant idea. She would become a male Jedi. Yes, this could work.

She waited for the night to fall and then slowly slithered closer to the walls surrounding the Temple and approached one of the trees which grew right beside the wall. She quickly climbed the knotty tree and slid down the wall using the ivy which grew there instead of a rope. When she was finally inside, she quickly hid behind a bush, in case someone was watching.

Her heart began to beat a battle tattoo as she slowly advanced in the direction of the Padawans' dormitories. She approached the many trees which grew right beside one of the dormitories as soundlessly as she could. She chose this particular dormitory because it was the easiest to access. She was surprised at the ease with which she could climb trees, because her training now made it possible for her to pull her weight up effortlessly and do all of the things she could once only dream about. Of course she could use the Dark side to help her, but she decided to avoid using it unless it was really necessary. Now she saw the merits of all those tedious exercises she had to do at the Sith Temple and she felt grateful for all of them.

This is just like one of Lady Tarralyanna's bars, she thought as she lifted herself up and straddled the branch. Let us just hope it does not break. Everything she learned at the Sith Temple seemed to come in useful now. She fixed her glance upon the terrace right in front of her. The curtains were drawn, the door leading out on the terrace was closed and the Padawans seemed to be asleep. She hoped that some of them might have left their robes on the terrace and she was correct. Slowly she began to slither toward the end of the branch, hoping it would not break before she had the chance to snatch a Jedi robe which was weaving to and fro in the light breeze.

Once she managed to grab it, but barely, she remained sitting on the branch with the robes in her hands, thinking what to do next. She had to resolve the problem of her hair. She actually wanted to wear a hood at all times, but she figured that it might be a little suspicious. She should smear something over it to make it darker. Soot, perhaps? As this thought occurred to her, she grinned broadly. Or even better – why not make herself a half-Droddian?

Delighted with this new idea, she quickly descended the tree and headed to the stable. She knew there was a fireplace in the smithy and she would use it to get soot which she would smear all over herself. She could also put the Jedi robes on there. She entered the dark smithy and began to take her clothes off, folding them neatly on the floor. Next she pushed her hand inside the fireplace and started smearing soot over her face and neck and rubbing it in her hair. She rubbed her hands thoroughly and looked down on them. She hoped she looked all right. Half-Droddians often wore their hair long, honouring the Droddian tradition and so it would not look strange.

She entered the stables and sat down, taking down her M'Hoor. She could not bring it in with her, she thought desperately. Her most trusted weapon! She would have to leave it behind? If so, she would have to conceal it well, because if it was found, the Jedi masters would know at once a Sith was among them. Her sword was reeking with Dark side and the Jedi would figure out what the strange writings were. At length, she decided to hide it in the stables, in case she had to run, because she would have to get a horse anyway and could easily pick it up.

She sighed and glanced over the stables, wondering where she could conceal her faithful sword so that no Jedi might stumble across it. Her glance paused on the ladders. The Jedi who were in charge for feeding the horses used the hay which was closest to the ladders, and it would be reasonable to presume that the hay in the corner would be untouched for at least a week, if not more. Tyananna quickly climbed the ladders and buried her sword in the hay in the corner, trying to leave everything behind just as it was. She felt sorry she had to leave her M'Hoor behind, but there was no helping it.

Of course weapons did not matter, because if she wanted to kill or incapacitate someone, she could easily use fists. Lord Tammutyen worked with her on many occasions, making sure she knew exactly where to strike and how to make one's heart stop, how to crush one's ribs, or to break one's neck with only one movement. She knew all that; and she realised that the Jedi had no idea about such deadly techniques. In their pursuit of non-violence and peace, they have forgotten that there would be always those who would be ready for war.

The province where she was born had often been a target of pillaging and there was a time her house had been broken into. Her father earned himself a broken leg in the scuffle and was limping ever since. But he defended his family and fought off the thieves. It was to be expected that her family would want her to learn how to fight and to be able to defend herself. And when she showed first signs of Force-sensitivity, by levitating a slice of bread on her plate by accident, her parents were beside themselves with joy. She would become a Jedi knight – and learn how to fight and defend Horukaan. She would be their hero.

Tyananna did not think often about her parents. She had no reason to, for they believed she was dead, that she perished in Gnath, and she thought that they were better off thinking she was dead than knowing the truth. It would break their hearts, she felt. But now she wondered what her mother would say if she saw her crouching in the dark stable, thinking about ways how to kill someone without using a weapon or the Force. She chuckled to herself as she tried to imagine her expression. She thought for a moment whether she really should knock on her parents' door one day and announce she was alive. That day would come soon, she knew, because once her Master shows himself to the world, he would also show his apprentices. They would know. Would they weep of joy she was alive? Or would they hate her?

Roots do not matter, she remembered Lady Tarralyanna telling her. Blood does not matter – it only matters who you are now and what are you going to become. Tyananna had been an easy-going and quiet child, enjoying things which most children enjoyed and nothing she remembered about her childhood could appoint to what she would one day become. She remembered something her Master said the night before she left the Sith Temple: "Merely being a king would not satisfy me. I wanted more – I knew there was more, and I could not rest until I have found it." So it is, she felt. She always felt there was something beyond the life of a Jedi, as magical and as amazing as it might have seemed in the beginning to the little awed Larynthe, coming from a small province, growing up in constant fear of attacks, living in poverty, playing with goats the whole day long and running around the courtyard. There had to be something more than what she once had at the Jedi Temple. And it looked as though she finally found it.

She spent a rather restless night, dozing off and jerking awake. When it was time for Cyrron to rise, she got to her feet and made her way back to the courtyard, hiding behind bushes in one corner of the courtyard and waiting for the Jedi to come out, until she remembered that the Jedi first had their breakfast and then did everything else. At the Sith Temple, training was done first, at dawn. Then one could eat and rest a little before going to the library and working until it would be time for their second training, their running session. No such discipline, no such ruthless routine has ever been exercised at the Jedi Temple.

And sure enough, some time after the rise of Cyrron, the Jedi began coming out in twos and threes, carrying their tea and green coffee to the tables, talking loudly. She thought for a moment about what she was about to do – if this is not improvisation, she thought, I do not know what is – before she spotted a yellow ball in the grass, which was undoubtedly left behind by the Padawans the day before. She picked it up, left her hiding place and started tossing it around, her glance wandering over the sunlit lawn, wondering whether she should go inside now. No; there were too many of them and it would look suspicious if a child – or what looked like a child – went inside on such a fine day. But then she spotted a group of young Jedi apprentices sitting at a wooden table with their heads close together. They were certainly not talking about the weather.

Spinning her ball in her hands, her hood low over her face and trying to keep to the shadows, she slowly headed there. She sat down on the grass, still playing with her ball to make it appear as though she was doing one of the first Jedi exercises, which was aiming at perfecting the reflexes. The apprentices glanced over her, but took no notice as she seemed to be absorbed in her exercise and continued with their conversation.

"So, they finally left, eh?" one asked.

"You have not eavesdropped, have you?" asked another one.

Tyananna checked as she recognised him – he was one of the Albinian Padawans who has obviously been made an apprentice in the meantime. The colour of his cloak said so.

"I might have," said the Jedi apprentice who spoke first. The one sitting beside him poked him in the ribs and laughed. But the apprentice Tyananna recognised was not laughing.

"That was wrong of you," he said sternly. The Jedi blew off and laughed.

"They cannot feel the Force," he said. "Besides, the masters would not tell us anything. I had to find out _something._"

"And?" everyone asked, leaning forward. A few, including the apprentice Tyananna knew, cast cautious glances in her direction.

"They are a curious lot, you know, the Caelians," the said seriously and in a low voice. "They do not sleep – or at least they have not slept while they were here. They were working the whole time."

"Doing what exactly?" asked one impatiently.

"Staring into crystal balls and things like that," the Jedi said importantly. "Divining. Making predictions. For the Jedi Order."

"Aha," said one. "I thought so. About the Fifth Season? It was horrible this time, it lasted so long. I am so glad it is over."

"No, not the Fifth Season, though I believe they spoke about that, too. Some sort of a prediction... involving the Dark side."

By the end of his speech he was speaking in a mere whisper and Tyananna strained her ears to hear what he was saying. As he mentioned the Dark side, however, the ball slipped out of her hands, but she caught it quickly. The Jedi looked at her and furrowed their brows.

"Can you not find some other place to play?" one asked. The others looked at him in surprise for being so rude and cruel to a Padawan.

Tyananna pretended she did not hear him and continued playing with her ball. Intuition – or a marvellous feeling for improvisation – told her that this would be the correct course of action.

"Hey!" said the Jedi she knew.

She looked round at him only then, still holding the ball in her hands. Their glances met; and for a moment Tyananna was certain he recognised her. But then he leaned aback and shook his head.

"I hope I am not bothering you," she said in a deep voice. "I was just looking for a quiet place to practise."

"Droddian, are you?" asked one, leaning forward.

"Yes," Tyananna said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. "Does it matter?"

"No, of course not," another Jedi said warmly. "Why are you on your own? Where are your friends?"

"I like being alone," Tyananna said dismissively. "Everyone is making fun of me. So I shall just go on with my exercise, shall I?"

The Jedi concluded that she should be left alone and thus continued their discussion in whispers. She could not hear anything. She got to her feet and dragged herself toward the entrance of the Temple like a child which has just been offended. The Jedi followed her with their glances, but did not make a move as to follow her.

She made her way into the Temple and there looked around herself. So, the Caelians were here to make a prophecy or to Divine something about the Dark side. She had to find out what it was. Barely seeing where she was going because her eyes were still watering due to too much sunlight, she headed down the corridor leading to the inner courtyard. The Jedi Temple was built in the shape of a hollow cube and its middle was occupied by a wonderful garden, where the Jedi ate when the weather was good.

"...could not believe it..." she heard a master saying to another, who was listening attentively.

Tyananna could not stop there, to her great discontent, because she felt it would have been too conspicuous. She should find a better way to eavesdrop. A chance appeared in the shape of a lady bug which flew over the table at which the masters sat and landed on a wide leaf of a plant right next to Tyananna. She crouched, extending her hand and cooing to it. The masters went on with their conversation in hushed voices and Tyananna felt her ears have grown to the size of plates in her attempt to hear what was being said.

"We all thought master Bakku's stories were just stories," said another voice. "We were too quick to judge him."

"But have we felt anything? Heard anything?" asked the first one desperately. "Dark side or not, the Force should be able to pick something. If it does not, if it cannot see such a grave threat such as the one the Caelians depicted, then this brings in question right about everything we have ever been taught and everything we ever believed in."

And for this sole reason, Tyananna thought, one should question one's belief system. If there is something jeopardizing a system of values a person has been using and serving his whole life, he should question them, to either redefine them or to make them as solid as rock. But fear makes the Jedi go around it and cling on to the old and comfortable, to the old and familiar. She knew, because she made that very mistake many times during her training in the Dark side.

They fell silent, watching Tyananna play with the lady bug, immersed in thought. She shuffled off, thinking that they would not say another word with her present, carrying the lady bug on her finger, until it flew off. She searched for master Quallath with her glance – not because she wanted to eavesdrop on him, but because he was the last person she wanted to see right now. She found out a great deal – the Caelians made a prophecy about a threat which concerned the Dark side and now the whole of the Jedi Order was in uproar. But what she wanted to know, before she took her leave, was – what are the Jedi going to do about it? And she was pretty certain she could only obtain this bit of information if she eavesdropped on a Council meeting.

Tyananna could not possibly hope to just go there and try to eavesdrop. No, it would be quite impossible. She would have to try to cloak herself with the Dark side. A few days out of training and out of contact with the Dark side made her feel rather sceptical about attempting this. But it was her best shot, her best chance to hear something useful. She wandered through the corridors of the Temple, thinking about it and spinning the ball in her hands, before it occurred to her that the Padawans would be expected to go to their classes at this time of the day. She hid in the pantry and some time later a stream of shouting and laughing Padawans marched right past it. While she was there, she reasoned, she could eat. Only then she realised that she was starving and she started devouring everything she could get her hands on. She got caught by the cook, who forced her out, threateningly brandishing a large frying-pan.

She moodily skulked around the Temple for a while, feeling blind because she could not use the Force to check whether anyone was heading her way. Suddenly she heard voices. She should not be caught out of class and she frantically searched for a place to hide. She reached a broom cupboard, skidded to a halt and slipped inside as fast as she could.

"Well, I should better hurry off to my class," a voice said. "Eighteenth Luth hour, is it?"

"No, the ninth," another voice answered. "I do not know why master Quallath wants us to meet so early. I will have to think of something to occupy my Padawans while I am gone. It must be urgent."

"I hope this clears up soon," the first voice said darkly.

Now they paused and Tyananna swallowed. They were standing right beside the cupboard where she was hiding and she wondered whether she should hit the both of them at the same time, in case they peeked inside, or burst into tears and run down the corridor. She decided on the latter.

"I hope so too, but I am afraid master Quallath has bad news," the second voice said.

Somewhere down that corridor there was a shout, followed by laughter. The Padawans were growing restless in the absence of their teacher. The two Jedi masters parted and their footsteps died away. Tyananna waited in cold perspiration, unable to believe her narrow escape and after a while slowly opened the cupboard door. The corridor was deserted. Well, now she knew. There was some sort of a meeting at the ninth Luth hour and she was certain that master Quallath would speak about the Caelians and what they Divined. She just had to go there.

Tyananna joined the river of Padawans once their classes were over, sniffing and keeping her glance fixed on the floor, to appear as though she was crying. The strange thing was was that everyone left her alone, though there was some pointing and muttering. Leaving a person who was miserable alone was a part of Sith philosophy, she learned. According to the Sith philosophy it was imperative that a person dealt with the reasons of her misery on her own and thus face the truth, whereas patting on the back and saying empty words of comfort was a part of the Jedi philosophy. However, as it appeared that she was a half-Droddian and that she had no friends, everyone avoided her. Peculiar.

After lunch the Padawans dispersed around the Temple, most of them going out to play in the sunlight, which was getting weaker and weaker. Tyananna nervously looked at the sundial in the garden. She had little time and she had to find out where the meeting was held so that she could come up with a plan. She used her yellow ball to appear as though she was doing something very important, all the while straining her ears to catch any bit of information which might be important. The whole garden exploded in chatter after lunch and it was pretty difficult to focus on one voice in particular. Tyananna wished for the umpteenth time she could use the Dark side to help her, but she knew it was out of the question. She sighed and tried to concentrate again, walking around and staring at her ball.

"And what else do you need?" she heard a deep voice of an adult. It was one of the Jedi sitting beside a large flowerpot. Tyananna slowed down. The Jedi got to his feet and straightened up, pushing a scroll under his arm.

"Just a list of Padawans who are ready for apprenticeship," another Jedi master said. The Jedi who was now standing nodded.

"Right, then. See you in the council room," he said.

Tyananna's heart leapt – now she even knew where the meeting was! All those horrible, strenuous hours of listening have paid off. Her head was reeling and aching, she was feeling groggy and very tired and the sunlight coming from the tall windows was not helping. She dropped her ball and reached out for it, but the Jedi master was quicker. He picked it up and handed it to her.

"Here you go," he said warmly.

"Thank you, master Feth," she said.

She recognised him as he looked at her and deliberately used his name as to indicate she knew him. His glance paused on her face for a moment, but as he was in a hurry and as she addressed him by his name, indicating that she knew him, he concluded the male half-Droddian Padawan must be new here, since he looked unfamiliar. He nodded and headed for the door.

Now there was no time to lose and Tyananna had all of the information she could hope for. She could not possibly survive in the Temple for another day and this eavesdropping in the Chamber would be the last daring move she would do. She wished she could ask her Master what he thought about this, whether he thought she found out enough, but she knew it was impossible. He trusted her judgement. But Tyananna knew that this mission was a temptation, a trial. He was the Dark Lord of the Sith – he could find a way to eavesdrop on the Jedi himself, if he wanted to. However, he chose to send her, Tyananna, after only a few years of Dark side training, to the Jedi Temple to eavesdrop on them.

She watched the Jedi leave the garden one after another, talking animatedly. How she could have ever believed that such a life could be the height of her existence? She did not believe she was worthy of becoming a Jedi master and that was what kept her here, still trying, still pushing, still wanting to prove herself in the Jedi world. She remembered with an inward laugh how she tried so hard to imitate the Jedi masters, to make knowledgeable remarks and to act 'maturely', as she called it. Maturity had nothing to do with wisdom – Lady Tarralyanna was the living proof of that. All else was just an act and an silly attempt to imitate others in order to appear wise and powerful.

Tyananna pitied them. They justified their weaknesses by saying it was 'just human'. One could not justify anything by saying one was human while working with the Dark side. One had to advance and work on one's weaknesses or else it came around and bit one in the arse. The Dark side did not tolerate weakness and demanded absolute devotion to one's work. The Sith called themselves 'inhuman' in order to emphasise this aspect of their personality, which made them so different than the Jedi. And while Jedi believed that some aspects of their personalities should remain as they are, the Sith refused to bow their heads before them and sought to gain control over them, thus becoming 'inhuman'. Tyananna once believed that some things could not be changed, but the Dark Lord proved to her otherwise. She once believed that her body would never be able to do things Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen could; and yet, now it was doing it, at least to some extent. Some boundaries have been set, she reasoned, in order to be broken. But only a Sith dared to go against one's own nature and reach out for more than what he already had.

oooooooooooooooo

As Tyananna climbed the grand staircase, she could see the sky growing darker through the skylights. Unfortunately the Jedi took care of good illumination within the Temple. Good for _them, _she thought grumpily. There were violent flashes outside, she observed as she sat down on a little tripod, leaning over a book she picked in the Padawans' study-room. She managed to get her hands on some green coffee left behind on a table and greedily gulped it down. Its effect, though it was far from the effect of the toxic coffee she was used to drinking at the Sith Temple, helped her a great deal and her headache was slowly subsiding.

The Padawans looked up from their work as flashes of lightning suddenly got accompanied by a strong wind, which violently shook the shutters and slammed the doors which were left ajar close. The sky turned white with rage and the air was thick with the scent of rain. The Padawans were disappointed, as they most certainly hoped they could go outside once they were done with their work, but Tyananna was gloating. She loved storms; no, correction – she learned to love storms, to respect them, to feel awe before them, because she saw the might of the Dark side in them. She watched the flashes illuminate the sky beyond the Temple with great satisfaction. To her it seemed as though the Dark side itself decided to lend her a hand in her quest. Soon the once distant flashes of thunder evolved into deafening booms and the wind howled even louder, with rain beginning to lash the tall windows. The whole of Horukaan turned into a stage for the Dark side.

'_A Sith rises from the cradle of terror to glide across the waves of fear and doubt; a Sith knows neither fear, nor weakness. For Rage is his sword; and but those who are fearless shall rise from the depths of weakness and shall be shown true power, true greatness. In sincerity and genuine intention to serve the Dark side, its horrors shall become their cradle, from which they will rise and smite the world with the fist of the Darkness_.'

Sith Code, Book Seven, Tyananna remembered. The Sith Code was full of hidden meanings and allegories and she was able to ascribe different meanings to them in different situations. This one, she thought, from chapter nine of the Seventh Book, was especially fitting in this situation.

As the storm raged outside, she walked across the corridor to the staircase and climbed the wide stairs to find herself standing before the Council Room. The tall door was closed; and her glance fell upon golden letters written above the door. "The Force we serve," it read in Albinian. She smiled to herself. If the Jedi truly served the Force, they would not be in this mess in the first place, she thought. When she was a Padawan she climbed the stairs a few times to take a peek at the Council Room. It was not forbidden. The Council Room was never locked and yet the Padawans never dared to come in. Tyananna wrenched open the heavy door without further ado and peeked inside.

The Council Room was a circular room, with as many chairs as there were members of the Council. Waak was once a member of the Council, she remembered, and she vaguely wondered who succeeded him. Not all masters always got to be on the Council. The members of the Council were chosen as the wisest and the most powerful Jedi. She glanced over the chairs with a strange feeling of regret. Would she, Tyananna, could have been sitting in one of those chairs, had she remained in the Order? She shook her head and laughed inwardly. Of course not; they would never choose _her_. She did not have any special talents and no one would have elected her to be a member of the Council.

Tyananna have been taught by her parents to admire and respect the Jedi and she grew in conviction that they were infallible. And to be given a chance to be one of them, to show how much she could do, was overwhelming. She wanted to prove herself, but it simply would not do. No matter how hard she tried it was never good enough. The strange thing was was that the Dark side training was incomparably harder and yet she, Tyananna, was advancing very quickly. However, the Dark side was also incomparably harder to control than the light side. If one was talented, one did not need a lot of a training to become a powerful Jedi, for the light side of the Force responded easily. In the Jedi Temple the teachers did not pay a lot of attention to those who were not very talented and who had difficulties. Tyananna always felt it should have been the other way round. She felt that one should pay a lot more attention to such children. One should work with them individually, so that they could develop to their full potential, however small or great that potential might be. To work with the talented only felt like polishing an already polished sword. What was the point?

Tyananna felt a surprisingly strong feeling of satisfaction as she glanced over the chairs once again, remembering that she, Tyananna, has come to ruin all their plans. Every shred of anxiety disappeared upon the very thought that she would be able to prove in this way how much she learned and how much she advanced. She would be hiding right under their noses and she would go back to the Sith Temple with news. She would be praised by the Dark Lord for what she did and no feeling in the world would be able to compare with the feeling of triumph she would feel once all this was over.

She thought she might sit on the balcony and there cloak herself in the Dark side, but it dawned on her that the wind was just too strong. The storm was, however, a very welcome cover – it was cold, the wind was howling loudly and wreaked havoc in the Temple and on its grounds. Even if the Jedi did feel a bit of a chill as a consequence of her use of the Dark side, they would ascribe it to the storm.

Tyananna chose a handy little chest where the Jedi kept spare candles and cushions as her hiding place. She glanced over the candlesticks and candelabra positioned around the room, pulling out a few spare candles and leaving them on the cupboard where the Council members kept bottles with wine, just in case some of the candles burned out. She would not want anyone to look for spare candles in the chest while she was inside. While she might be invisible to their physical and Force sight, she had no idea what would happen if someone tried to put a hand through her. She hoped that the Jedi would think that the Malaskian women who cleaned the Temple left a few spare candles, because of the storm. She glanced around herself one last time before she hopped inside, tried to make herself as comfortable as possible and closed the chest from inside.

She closed her eyes, her heart hammering against her ribs. They would be here any moment now, she felt. But first she should compose herself. She used the meditation technique the Dark Lord taught her to steady her breathing and focus. Suddenly she felt strangely at peace, knowing that she did everything she could and perhaps even more than that. She would either succeed at what she intended to do or get caught and die like a hero. Of course the Jedi would try to interrogate her, but she would rather die than betray the Dark Lord.

Determined and feeling focused, she reached out for the Dark side. It rushed to her instantly and surrounded her. Tyananna felt a powerful surge of joy splash over her as she felt the Dark side again after so much time of not using it at all and being blind to it. Quickly she repeated the technique Lady Tarralyanna taught her. Cloaking in the Dark side encompassed the spirit of a Sith sinking so deep into the Dark side, that it extended toward the body and made it invisible to the physical eye, but also to the eye of the light side, since it became a part of the Dark side and was therefore invisible to the eyes of the light side. However, the question which was still left unanswered was – could the Jedi feel a Sith who was cloaked in such a way anyway? Even the Dark Lord had no answer to that question.

The point of the whole thing was to remain in this state, which naturally required a lot of concentration. Tyananna's ability to concentrate was at times very good, and at times lousy, but she knew that everything depended on it and that she would just have to give her best.

She heard as though in a dream the Jedi entering the Council Room. She could hear them talk quietly and listened as they took their seats around the circular room. The burning feeling of triumph washed over Tyananna as she realised what exactly she was doing and where she really was. She would do this even if it was the last thing she did.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," said the voice of master Quallath suddenly.

This was a moment which would decide on the success of the whole operation. If master Quallath could not feel her presence, then she was off the hook for the moment. She grit her teeth as silence fell upon the room and then heard him, with an immense feeling of relief, sit down. It was already very cold in the room due to the storm and all the noise coming from outside was a welcome cover.

But even this, she thought, means nothing. He might be probing around, exploring what he felt when he entered the room and he might jump up and grab her any moment now. Did it matter? Secretly she hoped he might do something like that, so that she could laugh in his face. But she was now being rash, mislead by her emotions. Bad Tyananna, she scolded herself. No gloating, no vengeance, no feelings at all – because they could easily mislead me and ruin my concentration.

"The Caelian priests are gone," master Quallath said quietly. "Their work here was very thorough, as you must have observed. But I am afraid that now I have far more questions than I had before."

"I have been a fool," he went on. "I have been mislead by the Dark side; I have been misguided. It is what it does, it blinds people and feeds them with lies."

Tyananna's lips spread into a smile. 'There ought to be a law against ignorance,' she remembered Lord Tammutyen saying grumpily. 'We cannot blame the Jedi for ignorance,' she remembered her Master saying. No, she felt; it was their cross to bear. And it would be the stone over which they will trip.

"I have not listened to master Bakku's warnings," Quallath went on in a sad voice.

"None of us have, master Quallath," she heard one say.

"It is my presumption, my arrogance, my conviction, that I knew the ways of the Dark side, that got us all here," Quallath went on.

Spot on, Tyananna thought gleefully.

"What do we know about the Dark side? Nothing, absolutely nothing. None of us have ever felt it, for we have all been born after the fall of the Dark Lord of the Second Age. We have never been troubled with this burden. But master Bakku knew. He felt it. And he tried to warn us. But now, all is lost, for he is dead, along with two good Jedi. What happened to them? I used to believe many things, and I confess that the Dark side pulled a veil over my eyes. I am now quite certain that they have been murdered."

The Jedi masters broke into murmur and Tyananna strained her ears. Now, this was getting interesting, she thought. Two good Jedi? Since when was I a 'good' Jedi?

"By a Sith?" someone asked.

"Yes, I believe so," Quallath said with bitterness in his voice. "They have ventured into Gnath, the Accursed Land. And they have disappeared there, I am quite certain. I was a fool to believe that their disappearance meant anything else but murder. They have discovered this Sith and they had to die for it."

"One Sith against three Jedi?" someone asked. "Do you believe such a Sith exists?"

"We do not know enough about the Dark side," Quallath said. "But the Sith operate in shadows, in darkness. It would not surprise me if I found out that they were murdered while they could not defend themselves, stabbed in the back while they slept. Yes, that would be the Sith way."

If one would exclude being in mortal danger and dripping with sweat due to profound concentration, Tyananna was learning loads. The masters rarely spoke about the Dark side and even when they did, their answers were vague answers of people who could not wait to change the subject. The fear of the unknown is something dangerous, Tyananna concluded, remembering her Master's little story about the mouse and the chair. Precisely so. Would this not be one of the reasons why the Sith have always kept to themselves, lived in shadows and kept their teachings to themselves, as something that should be guarded at the cost of life and soul? Was this one of the reasons for their secrecy, apart from self-preservation? To instil fear?

"But something else has made me summon you today," master Quallath went on. "And I am sorry for scheduling the meeting so early, but I felt we should discuss this as soon as possible."

"Quite all right," a master said warmly.

"I have never felt the Dark side and no one in this room has felt it, either, I know," he went on. "But this morning I felt a serious stir in the Force. I felt a listening ear and a cold presence. Someone was listening at my conversation with the Caelian priest."

Silence fell on the Room. Tyananna's leg twitched as she heard these words and her calf cramped up. She lay where she was, however, her eyes watering in pain, trying to concentrate. At long last the pain subsided and she breathed with relief. Sweat was pouring down her forehead but she tried to relax in this uncomfortable position as much as she could.

"What are you saying, master?" a shocked voice asked after what seemed like an eternity. "That a Sith is around here somewhere?"

"Oh, I do not think so," master Quallath said. "No, one Sith close to so many Jedi?"

He chuckled and Tyananna wished she could do the same, but she would be laughing for a different reason.

"No, no. I do not believe he would dare to come so close. But the point is – I have felt him. He was reaching through the Dark side to me and trying to hear what I was talking about. Now I want you all to think and tell me whether you felt anything strange, heard anything, saw anything in your meditations?"

"The Fifth Season made us all feel nervous," said one slowly.

"But this time it lasted much longer than usual," said someone else. "Perhaps that might allude to something?"

"It might," master Quallath said gravely. "But we must try isolate the impression the Fifth Season left on us and look with the eyes of the Force, try to see the Dark side."

"If you do not mind me asking, master Quallath," someone spoke at last. "How is it that you have known that what you have felt was the Dark side? It might ease our task."

Approving murmur swept through the room and Tyananna strained her ears to hear his answer. Now it rather seemed that her cloaking was successful, for had he felt anything, he would have already been up and about, searching the room.

"It was a listening ear," he said. "It was a cold presence which was listening. Simply that. I felt as though I was not alone. But I felt chill around me, I felt something different than the peaceful waves of the Force. It was burning with rage, howling with anger. I have felt it – and I can most certainly tell you that it was a most uncomfortable sensation."

"Like this storm," someone remarked seriously.

This simple observation told Tyananna that they could be sensing something, but that they were ascribing it to the storm. If she was not lying in an impossible position in a chest full of candles, she would have congratulated herself on her excellent work.

"But it is not just the storm that is making us feel uneasy," master Quallath said at length, staring out of the window. "The eye of the Sith is fixed upon the Temple."

And it is watching you through the chest with spare candles and other trinkets, Tyananna thought to herself.

"We must remain objective in this matter," master Quallath went on resolutely.

"So what is it that you propose we should do, master?" someone asked.

Good question, Tyananna thought. Yes, let us hear it. And then I can leave this damn place. The air was becoming rather stale inside the chest, despite of the fact it was huge.

"We have made a rather thorough research on the disappearance of our three Jedi and it has not yielded any results," Quallath said thoughtfully.

"In fact, there is not much we can do," someone said. "I say we keep our eyes and ears open and focus on it in our meditations."

"Yes, I think that is the best idea," someone added.

But master Quallath did not seem pleased with this solution. He seemed to feel that something should else be done about it, other than meditating on it.

"First and foremost," he said loudly, to attract the attention of other masters who now started exchanging ideas, "I think we should try to find out as much as we can about the Sith. I know there is not much we can start from, but we have to make the best of it. We need to start learning about the Sith without any reservations. Master Waak-Lin once requested a permission to visit the room where we keep all ancient documents. I think that would be a good place to start. And in the meantime, yes, meditate on it."

"If the Caelians' prophecy tells the truth," someone said, "then we will soon be facing the greatest threat to Horukaan since the Great War."

"The Caelians are quite vague about the timeline," Quallath said thoughtfully. "Divination by itself cannot predict exact time but the Caelians themselves also perceive time differently, since they have such a long life span. We cannot focus on that."

"However, we can focus on the Force itself. They may not be able to comprehend what it means to be Force-sensitive, but we should put our trust in the Force. For a long time I have felt stirs in the Force, but it was nothing definite and I have ascribed them to the Fifth Season. Now that it is over, we should be able to see more clearly."

"How do we see something that even the Force cannot see clearly?" someone asked the question which secretly scared all of them. "If we cannot perceive the Dark side clearly, this Sith could be hiding anywhere on the planet and doing Force knows what."

"We have to put our trust in the Force," Quallath persisted. "We alone cannot do anything without it. It has to be our eyes and ears. If it wants us to discover this Sith, it will give us hints. But we must _listen._"

"Is there not someone on this planet who once faced the Dark side and who can tell us about it?" someone asked desperately.

"There was," Quallath said sadly. "But we have been so blind to his warnings that we have sent him to his death."

"I say we pack our things and ride to Gnath," someone said unexpectedly.

It was the voice of master Gar-Gan, Tyananna knew, an Albinian with a Droddian grandfather. He would be the kind of person who would favour quick action, of course.

"Twenty of us, on alert," he went on, as he obviously got everyone's attention. "What can one Sith do?"

"What makes you think there is only one Sith?" someone asked suspiciously.

Master Gar-Gan snorted.

"How many Sith do you think Horukaan can store?" he asked. "One is quite enough, I daresay."

Four, to be exact, Tyananna thought with amusement.

"We must be careful," master Quallath said. "Very careful. But in due time, master Gar-Gan, I might even consider your proposal."

Once speculation about what the Sith can and cannot do started to get a little out of hand, master Quallath announced the meeting was over and the Jedi masters stood up. Tyananna was already at her wits' end, still lying all cramped up in the chest and trying to remain cloaked.

The door was opened at last and she heard yells coming from the direction of the door, as the Jedi masters obviously found a few Padawans lurking nearby, hoping they might catch a few words. The Jedi masters filed out, talking quietly, and Tyananna waited in cold perspiration. Her robes were already drenched with sweat. She heard the heavy pace of master Quallath heading toward the door, but to her horror, he seemed to be turning back.

Two pairs of feet went back inside and she waited, mortified. Slowly the two Jedi went around the room and she heard them whispering, but she could not make anything out. However, she knew that this was it. If she sensed them approaching the chest, she knew what she had to do. She had ample time to decide on her course of action.

Master Quallath was about to leave the room, immersed in his thoughts, when he felt warmth washing over him as the door was opened. His first reaction was relief, but then he checked. Torches and candles have been burning in the Council Room and all of the windows were closed – it was not supposed to be so cold and uncomfortable there. His first thought that the storm was responsible for his discomfort, along with the many thoughts about danger and peril coming from the Jedi masters. But now he felt the exact opposite and he wondered at it. He went back and reached out with his senses. The Force was trembling. There was something at work here, but not until all of the masters with their own troubled thoughts were gone was he able to see this clearly. He was certain that he felt a hint of the presence he felt that morning. As he walked around the room, he was suddenly filled with certainty that something, what did not belong here, was hidden somewhere in this room.


	42. Chapter 41 - Part Three

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XLI – Traveller

The chest would be open any time now... And when it was flung wide open by master Quallath, Tyananna of the Sith was ready.

She could see his eyes for a split second, which widened in surprise as the Dark side spilled over him. Master Quallath himself perceived the opening of the chest as opening of the Pandora's box. Blood-freezing chill and horror spilled over him and for a moment he was stupefied, staring into the depths of the chest, before a shadow sprang from the depths of the chest and attacked him.

Tyananna of the Sith opened herself to the Dark side fully in that moment and felt it rush to her like a deadly storm. She turned in the air, leaping over the two Jedi's heads, who turned to face her right on time to cross their Jalá swords with her own. Knowing she should do her very best not to show her face, she spun around with her sword, fighting off the attack of the both of them at the same time. She remembered her Jedi training. She knew how they might react and she would use this knowledge to her avail. She hit the other master in the chin with her foot and charged at master Quallath (knowing it would be last thing he expected), crossing her blade with his.

She kicked Quallath savagely in the chest with her foot and he slackened up his grip on the sword, which offered her a chance to wrench herself away from him. In that moment she felt the other master behind her back and she jumped backwards over their heads (this particular manoeuvre came from the seventh b'daar, which dealt with impossible situations and how to escape them), turning to face them as soon as she landed, lifting the palm of her left hand. The Dark side thundered through her and she released it in all of its magnitude and force. The mighty wave of destructive power collided with the two Jedi and knocked them off their feet. The following moment however they jumped back on their feet, their swords on ready, but Tyananna was quicker. She pointed her finger at one of the chairs and sent it flying through of the window. It smashed the glass, which shattered in thousand pieces and she ran for her life, throwing herself headlong through the window like a swimmer diving into a deep lake.

The shattered glass grazed her, but she barely noticed it. She was falling off the topmost floor of the Jedi Temple, her sword clenched in her hand. The wind whistled in her ears as she fell lower and lower, feeling as though she left her brain behind in that wretched chest in the Council Room. Everything happened so quickly and the whole confrontation lasted no more than one or two minutes. The hand of the Dark side caught her on time for her to land on her feet and as soon as she felt solid ground under her feet, Tyananna bolted. Her speed multiplied and empowered by the Dark side, she ran toward the stables like an arrow. She heard screams behind her back; she saw many faces staring through the windows and she was certain that in no time the grounds of the Temple would be swarming with Jedi, chasing after her. There was a thunder of running feet behind her and she was certain that master Quallath was right at her heels.

She darted into the stables and pointed her finger at the hay, thinking about her faithful sword, which now came zooming into her outstretched hand. Hay flew everywhere as Tyananna jumped over a stall door and landed on the back of a frightened horse. She had no time to think where master Quallath was and how close he was and she spurred the horse violently. Frightened to death, the horse smashed the wooden door with its hooves and Tyananna grabbed its neck with her one hand, clutching her sword in her other hand. At this precise moment master Quallath and other pursuers charged inside, but they only had a split second to move out of the way as the horse galloped right past them. Tyananna surrounded herself with the Dark side and extended it toward the horse, giving it more speed.

She was pretty certain that her pursuers were now on horseback. She heard master Quallath's frantic yells behind her as she galloped straight for the wall which surrounded the Temple. Her horse was about to skid to a halt, but she forced it onward, placing a hand of the Dark side under it. The horse jumped, its leap being given unnatural height by the Dark side, to its own great surprise and shock, and landed safely on the other side, galloping away. There was no time to check how far her pursuers were behind her, because she was too busy using the Dark side to give her horse more speed and strength. The rain was still falling mercilessly, sweeping over the land in thick curtains of cold rainwater, making it almost impossible to see anything with one's physical eyes. But now that Tyananna had the Dark side back, she did not need her eyes.

She forced her horse up the hill which marked the border with Mangora, leaning forward as to make the task easier on the horse. A mixture of moist leaves and mud flew everywhere as she rode on, crossing hill after a hill, immersed in the Dark side. The curtains of rain were so thick that although it was still supposed to be day, it seemed as though night has fallen prematurely.

Tyananna felt like screaming in triumph. She just duelled two great Jedi masters at once, escaped them and fled on one of their horses from the Temple. She has done the unthinkable. Even if I am caught now, she thought with an inward laugh, I have been one hell of a hero today. The looks of horror on the masters' faces and the fear which she saw in their eyes as she sprang out of the chest was something she would always remember. She decided that if she ever felt afraid of something, if she ever doubted her skills, that she would remember this one instance in which master Quallath, the Head of the Jedi Order, was scared stiff of her.

She turned her horse toward the very entrance to the tunnels which lead into the underground City. The Jedi had no idea the tunnels existed and it was her best chance to escape. Eventually, however, they would find her again through the Force, but then Tyananna would be riding her faithful Nan'Tha and she would be several miles ahead of them, since they had to cross the rocky hill which was the home of the Mangora Droddians. When she was almost there, she quickly searched for her pursuers with the Force. There were five of them riding at her tail, shouting to each other, holding their Jalá swords in their hands. Tyananna of the Sith spotted the entrance with the eye of the Force; and when she was only a few paces away from it, she threw herself off her horse, rolled across the ground, and jumped headlong into the passage which led into the tunnel. There she sank into the Dark side once again, cloaking herself. A few moments later she heard a thunder of hooves right above her head, passing her by. It would not be before long the Jedi figured out that she was gone and she should not lose any time. Tyananna took a deep breath, still cloaked in the Dark side, and began to run down the tunnel as fast as her feet would carry her.

She ran, covering mile after mile. Her legs felt horribly heavy, due to the prolonged period of time she spent in a strange position in the chest, but Tyananna pushed on, trying to remain cloaked in the Dark side as much as she could. The tunnel was dry despite of the storm and her pace echoed the dark tunnel as she ran on. Gradually the tunnel got broader. Although it was still pitch dark, she could vaguely make out where she was going. However, a few times she stumbled in darkness and fell, jumping to her feet as soon as she recovered.

The Dark Lord covered that chapter in his trainings, too. She had been taught how to fall in such a way as to minimise her injuries. This she practised on a frozen mountain lake a few hours' ride from the Sith Temple. She fell down on her face and slid across the frozen surface of the lake more times than she could count. At the time she was doubtful about the merits of such a training, for she could not see any, but now she was positively grateful for it. She came to the conclusion that whatever the Dark Lord taught her, that it had to come in useful at some point.

She felt relief as she blinked in the faint light which was showing at the end of the tunnel. Not pausing, she ran right past the entrances to the other two tunnels, leading Darkness knows where, and tore down the stony path leading into the first (or the last) hall of the underground City. Everyone jumped to their feet as they saw her running, but no one dared to do a thing. Her path was once obstructed by an elderly Droddian who was leading his donkey on a long line, and who stood rooted to the spot, staring stupidly at her. But Tyananna had no time to wait for him to move and no breath left to tell him to get out of the way. She jumped over his donkey, landed safely on the other side and ran on. She remembered the obstacle training which used to drive her mad. She had to jump over logs or hurdles, squeeze through two thick branches or jump over a pit in as little time as possible. Needless to say, she dreamt that damn hourglass of her Master's many times.

Now she thought about how to find her horse, as she was nearing the first hall, barely breathing and more stumbling than running. Where did the Mangorians keep their horses? She spotted a Droddian ahead of her, who was sitting on the back of one of those reptilians she rode while she was here. He seemed to be a guard as it was clear that he was patrolling. Tyananna ran straight at him, jumped in the saddle behind him, grabbing him by the waist.

"RIDE, FOR THE LOVE OF DARKNESS!" she yelled in Droddian.

The guard recognised her, as the soot got washed off by the rain; and he also understood it was an absolute emergency. It was not necessary to spur the animal, because it seemed to sense what was going on. It was now trotting like mad through the high archway of the third hall. Tyananna leaned forward and yelled into the Droddian's ear:

"Where is my horse? The black one? I need him, now!"

The Droddian understood at once. She was being pursued. He tugged forcefully at the reins instead of giving her an answer, and the animal skidded across the floor, to turn left under the right angle, and dart down the passage Tyananna has never seen before. The passage seemed to have no end. However, just as Tyananna was about to doubt whether the Droddian warrior understood her, her nose detected the smell of donkeys. She screamed her horse's name atop of her lungs.

There was a crash, a heavy thud, and then Tyananna saw the black head of her stallion. Tyananna jumped on the ground and ran toward the stall, quickly spotting her saddle and all of her belongings, throwing them on the back of the excited stallion, who was making as much noise as possible. His excitement was obviously contagious, because all other animals began emitting loud wails, howls and shrieks and were thumping the ground with their hooves or legs. Having fastened the saddle and strapped down the saddlebags, Tyananna threw herself into the saddle. The Droddian warrior, who was running right behind her, jumped aside right on time to take cover as the gigantic stallion now gleefully galloped down the passage with his mistress on his back.

"The Jedi will look for me!" Tyananna yelled to the Droddian. "You must say that you know nothing!"

She was certain that the Droddian understood, because he cursed in Droddian and mounted the reptile once again. But Tyananna left him far behind, because Nan'Tha ran like the wind. He galloped with ease across the long, narrow bridge leading across the pit and toward the entrance. The hooks and thick chains hanging over the pit were a blur and soon Tyananna and her horse galloped through the entrance to the mines and out into open. They darted across the arid valley of Mangora like a speeding shadow and headed due north, toward the Kingdom of Gotan.

oooooooooooooooo

Tyananna clutched at the reins, grateful for his speed, grateful to be on his back once again, watching with anxiety as the seemingly endless valleys loomed up in front of her. She must have slipped from her Dark side cloak. She had no idea when this happened, but she suddenly realised that she could see the world around her clearly and that the shapes and colours were sharp. Deciding that the damage was already done, she reached out with the Dark side to search the surroundings for her pursuers. To her horror, she felt them riding right past the entrance to the mines. They must have sensed her.

"Faster, faster, Nan'Tha!" she yelled in Sith into her horse's ear.

She thought that the Sith words would do no good, but they escaped her. Suddenly, however, the stallion's eyes flashed and his long, strong legs gave a powerful sweep through the air. The ground shook under his hooves and the black horse ran like he never ran before. Tyananna let out an exclamation of surprise and leaned forward, clutching at his mane desperately, watching in amazement the hazy outline of hills in front of her grew sharper and sharper with gathering speed.

Happiness pervaded her, though she felt as though she was going to fall and break her neck any moment, and she reached once again for the Dark side, enveloping the stallion with it. This seemed to do wonders for the horse. His head shook in delight and his whole body seemed to tremble. Tyananna felt like screaming atop of her lungs and laughing like mad. She has never ridden this fast before and she had never ridden a horse like her Nan'Tha. He was a wonder among the horses! She was certain that no horse could catch up with him now.

As she sensed her pursuers falling aback, she thought that she would have to stop sometime, and then the question of what was to be done, how to prevent the Jedi from following her all the way to the Kingdom of Gotan appeared in her weary mind, which was until then preoccupied with the question of how to evade them. Then she thought of her Master. She closed her eyes, her sweaty fingers still buried in Nan'Tha's bushy mane, and called for him. She had no idea whether she was doing it right. And she had no idea why she was calling him. To tell him she was in trouble? To tell him that she succeeded at her mission?

As Nan'Tha galloped at breakneck speed toward the Land of Salom, Tyananna finally felt an answer.

The Dark Lord's presence in her spirit was so sudden that she almost lost her balance. Quickly she retold him everything that happened and told him about the Jedi riding at her tail. At the moment she was far ahead of them, but they would not give up as easily. The Dark Lord listened and as she finished with her story, she almost thought that the connection broke, until she heard his voice in her head.

"Listen to me," he said seriously. "Ride hard. Do not look back. And do not use the Dark side anymore – isolate yourself. Do you understand? I shall take care of the Jedi."

"Yes, Master," she replied, her heart filled with joy.

Somehow she knew he was going to help her, even though she could not imagine how that was possible.

She felt a tremble in the Dark side. A vortex of Darkness appeared beside her and she gasped, stretching her senses toward it. Of course she knew that time and space did not matter to the Dark side, but it seemed that her presence here helped the Dark Lord to focus on her pursuers. She felt his power spilling over her and gasped. She missed it so much! The Dark vortex seemed to be spinning faster and faster and Tyananna felt the eyes of the Dark Lord sweeping the land. Before she knew what was happening, the vortex seemed to sense the Jedi and it sped away. Tyananna never believed something like that was possible, but now she was pretty certain that the Dark Lord only sent her to the Jedi Temple to test her. She could feel the eye of the Dark Lord fixing upon the Jedi and she felt them pause. Suddenly she remembered what he told her and she withdrew. As much as she wanted to find out what he was going to do, she knew she had to follow his orders.

In that moment it dawned on her what just happened. She, Tyananna, eavesdropped on the Jedi, hid in their Council Room, cloaked herself in the Dark side, duelled with master Quallath and another Jedi master, escaped, ran six miles through the underground City and then escaped. She had no idea what the Dark Lord wanted to do with the Jedi, but she was certain that she was now free. She began to laugh. She laughed so hard her stomach began to ache as her black stallion carried her onward, deeper and deeper into the Land of Salom.

ooooooooooooooooooo

She had no idea how long she rode. She must must have dozed off and she suddenly jerked awake, glancing around herself. Nan'Tha was still galloping, but not at such a breakneck speed as he did some hours ago. The rain stopped and the familiar violet vault was now cloudless.

"Slow down, Nan'Tha," she said in Sith in a broken voice.

Nan'Tha's black ears turned in her direction as though he was asking himself whether he heard well. "Slow down," she panted.

He slowed down to a trot, spitting saliva all over the yellow and blue flowers which dotted the valley. Tyananna sat up, noting that her hands were trembling and that her hair was filthy and was adhering to her sweaty face. She could barely sit straight, she realised. Now she could feel exhaustion in her every bone and the world spun before her eyes as Nan'Tha started walking. She tugged at the reins, intending to dismount, but her legs and her arms were trembling so badly that she fell with a dull thud in the grass. Her faithful horse stopped and turned back, nudging her with his snout. He could not understand why his mistress chose to lie down in the middle of a valley, in broad sunlight, before she removed the saddle and offered him water, which was something she always did. When he reached her, he realised that there was something wrong with her. As he licked her on the nose she came back to her senses and opened her eyes. She managed to stand up and leaned against her horse.

"What a weakling I am, eh?" she said with a weary laugh. "Can you smell water, Nan'Tha?"

She looked around herself, asking herself where she was. She spent entire night in saddle, it dawned on her. The horse knew the meaning of the word 'water' in Sith and now replied with a quick blow through his nostrils. She put her one leg into the stirrup, but it trembled so badly that she had to give it up, massaging her calf and wincing in pain. To mount such a big horse as Nan'Tha was exceedingly difficult even in a normal state, let along in the state she was. However, the clever animal understood she was having difficulties, lowered himself down on the ground and allowed her to climb on his back. Once she was back in the saddle, the horse got up once again and slowly headed toward a few trees, sniffing. She patted him and patted him, wishing she could reward him for his loyalty and cleverness with a bit of the Dark side – but orders were orders. Nan'Tha made his way through the bushes, still sniffing audibly, until they emerged out on a clearing. A clear stream zig-zagged through the rocks, forming a small pond of fresh water beside the side of a hill.

"Perfect," she said.

She managed to dismount without falling on her face again and her horse stood still while she unsaddled him, watching her. Concluding that his mistress was all right now, he eagerly approached the pool of fresh water and began to drink.

"Oh, I am a wreck," Tyananna muttered to herself as she managed to pull her boots off and dipped her feet into the cool water. She hissed in pain and swore. Her feet were all bloody and swollen due to all that running and jumping.

"You know," she said quietly, after she gulped down some water herself, "you are the best horse I have ever ridden."

Nan'Tha gave a blow through his nose, as though agreeing, and continued drinking. Tyananna pulled the filthy Jedi tunic over her head and threw it aside. She must have lost the cloak somewhere. Luckily she had spare robes in one of her saddlebags – Nan'Tha's size allowed her to take more than just necessities and she carried spare weaponry, not to mention Tarralyanna's notes and her Master's scroll, which lay untouched by the Droddians in one of the saddlebags. Of course, even if they have seen them, they would have meant nothing to them, for even the digits were Sith.

She took off all of her clothes and began to wash herself in the pool, examining her body and locating wounds and grazes. She had a nasty swelling on her right ankle, which felt sore. She concluded that it was probably sprained, but as far as she could see, the rest of her was just fine. She pulled out a paste she used very often at the Sith Temple, which speeded up the healing process. While she fumbled around for it, her fingers stumbled across something long and cylindrical. She furrowed her brow, pulling it out, wondering what it was. Of course! She forgot all about it. The Dark Lord gave her a few potions to take and she remembered he gave her one for which he said it would help her to recover from extreme exhaustion, but warned her that it should not be taken too often. She inclined the potion without any further ado. The sour liquid almost forced her to throw up and she coughed, at what Nan'Tha looked up in alarm. However, a few seconds later, the strange nauseous feeling subsided and she felt warmth spreading from her stomach.

She knew that her Master knew a lot about Caelian alchemy and that he studied all the scriptures and work written by the Sith Lord of the First Age, who was a great scholar and researcher. But this she did not expect. It was better than black coffee. It almost felt as though her body was rebuilding itself from the inside, filling her every weary, trembling limb with new strength. She could not believe it and started flexing her muscles as to ascertain herself that what she was feeling was real. Now all she needed was a bit of sleep and she could ride on.

"You keep a weather eye open, eh?" she told her horse.

The black horse was now happily rubbing his back against the trunk of a large Swathali tree, which was renowned for its knotty trunk and rich tree top, its branches spreading in the shape of a mushroom.

Washed and having smeared the skin-healing paste all over herself, having drunk the wondrous potion her Master made for her and now wearing clean Sith robes, Tyananna curled up beside the rocks, wrapped up to her nose in her woollen cover and closed her eyes. She felt like a different person. She was certain that the Jedi have either lost track of her or that they were incapacitated, as she did not doubt that her Master successfully carried out what he intended to do.

ooooooooooooooooooo

She was awoken by her horse once again, who was pushing her gently with his snout. His coat was now clean and shiny and he looked rested. He must have taken a bath in the pond while she was sleeping.

"What is it?" she asked, yawning and sitting up. She looked up. The sky has once again turned a dark grey and she frowned.

"Not again," she muttered to herself, grumpily getting up. "Well, it does not matter, because we have to continue our journey anyway."

Soon she was back in the saddle and was galloping through the Land of Salom.

The Land of Salom was populated predominantly by Albinians, who lived in strictly patriarchal communities. Women were nothing more than slaves here and she knew she had to be careful, now that the use of the Dark side was out of the question. They would not see she was a female straight away, of course, and she could easily defend herself against two or three of them, she felt. But she did not want to run across a whole dozen or more of them. The land was mostly flat and in one of the large valleys, which teemed with animal life, one could stumble across one of the Salom communities, which were built around rivers and streams. There were quite a few caves in the Land of Salom, most of which were home for large, underground lakes.

But Salom was the most famous for its trees. There were many varieties of trees which were native to this land. The Swathali tree, for instance, was native to Salom. Its large, plate-sized leaves were lime green, almost yellow, and its trunk was so firm that people often used it for house-building. The Talá tree, on the other hand, did not look like a tree at all. It had no leaves and its branches looked to Tyananna like a brown mass of cobwebs, so thin and so many of them there were. It bore strange fruit, which grew at the ends of these hair-thin branches – something that resembled a bulged berry, with what looked like tufts of hair sprouting out of it. The fruit was called the 'poisonous kiss'. According to the legends, this fruit was extremely poisonous, meaning, it did not only cause instant death but also ate one from the inside. Nowadays no one in the right mind approached those berries, believing the legend. But even if it was not true, Tyananna thought, staring at them in her passing, they did not look very tasty anyway.

But what was perhaps the most alarming about the Land of Salom was the frequent occurrence of whirlwinds. They could appear out of nowhere, it seemed, but they crushed and destroyed everything in their way. Once such a whirlwind crushed the main temple in the largest and the most populated valley of Mooma, leaving only piles of rock behind, on a place where once a magnificent temple stood. No one could really predict their appearance and their itinerary, but when seen, the people of Salom would flee as fast as they could.

The first time Tyananna passed through Salom, she cut across it by riding through the hills in the west, which were not populated. But now that her course took her deeper into the land, she was keeping her eyes and ears open.

Tyananna found herself in a long valley, stretching as far as the eye could see, covered with light brown soil, with plants growing only here and there. She marvelled at the tall arc, which seemed to be a natural rock formation, as she rode though it. The horizon was a blurry line in the distance and it reminded her of the Land of Gnath. She took out her compass and checked her course. Yes; she would need to pass through this valley and she did not need to climb any of those hills in order to correct her course. They looked too dangerous to climb anyway.

Lifting her glance she saw, to her amazement, a thin black line in the distance which was not there a moment before. Tyananna quickly pulled Nan'Tha aside and took cover in the shrubbery which grew at the foot of a hill. Great, she thought; exactly what I needed. Something to hold me back.

She watched the line grow sharper by the minute and soon she could make out riders. Now those were the people of Salom, she was certain, as she glanced over them, noting that all of them were male. Women were not allowed to ride. She remembered that women, if they had to travel with their husbands (each man was allowed to have up to ten women, except for the property-masters, who had as many as they liked) would be put into a carriage and they would travel in that fashion. They were advancing slowly down the valley and Tyananna wondered for a moment of whether she was to follow them and eavesdrop. Perhaps she could find out something interesting?

"Lie down," she said quietly in Sith, placing a hand on Nan'Tha's snout, who understood immediately.

The horse lowered himself in the grass and remained quiet, his dark eyes fixed upon his mistress. She crouched beside him, watching the people of Salom come closer and closer. They were talking very loudly and laughing, riding in a light trot, what indicated that they were not in a hurry. Tyananna wondered how long she should wait before she mounted her horse and started following them. However, a few riders pointed at the rock archway and they yawed off course, heading there. Tyananna remembered seeing a small stream trickling through a narrow passage between two hills and reckoned that they were about to set up a camp there. It was against her orders; but Tyananna began to trust her intuition. And her intuition was telling her to eavesdrop on these people.

"You wait here," she told the horse in Sith, who was watching her in surprise. Surely she would not leave him here? "And if I call for you, you come. All right?"

The horse stared at her, but he understood that he was to wait here. He knew the meaning of the word 'wait' and thus he remained lying obediently where she left him, watching her draw her dagger and head toward the archway.

She had no difficulties in finding their camp. She smelled fire easily long before she reached it and that ascertained her that the people of Salom felt quite safe.

For a few minutes she watched them as they ate and listened at their conversation about the unstable weather they had for the past several weeks. They spoke an Albinian dialect, but she could understand most of it. In the beginning, Tyananna was on alert, but as time passed, she relaxed.

The people of Salom were not renowned for their battle skills, for their horses or their handiwork – they were simply people who cherished pleasure in every possible sense and did not try to make themselves masters of what was hard, uncomfortable and painful. The Dark Lord picked his allies carefully and Tyananna was certain that he did not have any allies in the Land of Salom, which told Tyananna right about everything she needed to know about these people.

Once they were done with their meal, the nineteen riders filled their pipes and the idle conversation spun on. Tyananna was about to leave, ascertained that these men had nothing more important on their minds except how to get their hands on the expensive Malaskian wine or where to buy the silk which was as light as a feather, when she heard something that made her decide to stay.

"I agree it was wrong to let an impostor into our land and to even listen to him," said one. "But we must keep ourselves informed about what is going on in the neighbouring counties, do you not agree?"

By 'impostor' they referred to a person who had not been born in Salom, because the people were suspicious about newcomers and chased all of them away, regarding anyone who even passed through their land as a trespasser.

"What can it be, that should be of interest to us?" asked one in a weary voice that suggested he had too much to eat. "Do we care if Pallantians choose to make strange summons? It is none of our business."

"No," said the one who spoke first. "But, if they were getting ready for something, talking something out, we would have to know, would we not? What if they were planning a raid in one of our villages? We would have to know."

Many laughed contemptuously to this, as though the very idea was ridiculous, but there were a few who did not.

"Where did you say this person came from?" one asked.

"He was a Malaskian trader," said the first one. "He wanted to sell a dozen of cups and shirts to those who did not want to buy them. They got him drunk instead and robbed him. In his drunken state, he babbled this out."

Tyananna thought about it. This babbling Malaskian – and it was a well-known fact that the Malaskians were just as inveterate drinkers as they were good at making quality liquor – was endangering her Master's secret rallying of the Dark armies. The people from Pallantia who were 'talking things out', as the Albinian put it, were his allies, of course. And the tradesman in question was one of them, obviously, but who unintentionally let something slip. What should she do? The logical course of action would be to find this person and kill him. But she could not use the Dark side – so she wondered what was she to do?

Tyananna withdrew as quietly as she came and retraced her steps back to her horse, who welcomed her with an excited blow through his nose. Still thoughtful, she mounted him and resumed her course. She was weighing her options. She was pretty certain that the people of Salom would do nothing about this, the more with the fact that an 'intruder' was concerned. At length, she decided to wait until she got home and then tell the Dark Lord all about it.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She finally left the Land of Salom in a few days and by the evening of the last day she spotted the first Pallantian village. She breathed with relief. They were as friendly as they were non-violent and they always welcomed anyone who might be passing by, offering him good meals, excellent wine and many tales to go along with it. Their pubs and inns were famous for their hospitality and simple comfort. At the arrival of 'tall people', as they called all other races, they would become curious and even more hospitable than usual. The Malaskians were unprejudiced and good-natured, what many often found refreshing. However, they were not very bright, nor did they think about anything else than lunch, liquor and women.

Tyananna was tempted to visit one of these inns to finally have an ample meal, but she resisted this temptation and spurred Nan'Tha toward the long gorge of Ceh'Plaath. In Sith it meant 'evil mouth', but Tyananna did not know how it was called in other languages. She was certain that she was not going to run across anyone following the path through the gorge.

Rocks which had the unpleasant habit of suddenly rolling down the sides of the gorge and falling on the heads of hapless travellers who might be passing by presented a constant danger, which was why she kept her eyes and ears open. However, her Nan'Tha again proved very useful here, as his hearing was much better than hers. Twice he twitched and made a few quick leaps like a goat, before Tyananna saw a river of small rocks and dust rolling down the side of the cliff.

But this was not the sole reason why the gorge of Evil Mouth was shunned by everyone. According to the Malaskian legend, an evil spirit lived here, which preyed on travellers. It was unnaturally quiet, she had to confess. It occurred to her that there ought to be some life forms living here; at least some birds which would make some noise. But there was nothing at all, not even a lizard.

However, just as the end of the gorge was now showing ahead of her, she felt something strange. It was a feeling of despair, of blood-chilling fear, which was not coming from her, but rather from the _outside. _

Now, Tyananna was not open to the Force and she was pretty certain that whatever she was sensing, has not reached her through the Force. Which of course begged the question – what was it, really, that she was sensing? And how in Darkness' name was that possible?

The only conclusion she reached was that this was 'evil spirit' which lived in the gorge. Several seconds later she felt a presence right in front of her, which was dripping with the horrible feeling of despair she first sensed. Tyananna straightened up. She has never spoken to spirit, but she supposed it had to be similar to the experiences she had in meditation.

'What do you want?' she thought, closing her eyes.

'You have wandered astray, traveller,' the presence replied in a dangerous voice.

'Not at all,' she thought back, smiling to herself. 'I am heading home, to the Sith Temple. So move away.'

The presence seemed to be a little baffled with her answer, because it did not speak back right away. Perhaps it was just too used to people being scared of it and since Tyananna did not seem to be intimidated the least, it was confused.

But the following moment the apparition assumed the appearance of a skeleton with gleaming, red eyes and it screamed at Tyananna.

Tyananna of the Sith sighed. If the spirit thought it could frighten her, then it was mistaken. She was a Sith, for the love of Darkness – and she saw many terrible faces of the Force she served over the years she spent in training.

'Go away,' she said. 'I am a servant of Darkness; and if you do not move out of the way, I will show you its horrors.'

'I sense no Force in you, traveller,' replied the shadow contemptuously.

In that moment Tyananna of the Sith opened herself to the Force.

She assumed the face of a demon-like being she once saw in her meditations and mentally threw herself at the apparition. She grabbed it and felt the apparition trying to wrench itself away from her. But it was futile. Tyananna was very angry indeed.

'Tell me about your grief,' she thought.

A torrent of impressions began to fleet through her mind. She saw many mangled bodies; she felt overwhelming sorrow and grief; and she felt emptiness, futility of existence and confusion. She understood at once. This 'evil spirit' was nothing more than the spirit of someone who died a violent death and was still wandering the world, confused, kept in existence solely because of his confusion, uncertainty that he was dead. Tyananna was pretty certain that those bodies she saw were victims of an attack which took place in this very gorge several centuries ago.

'You do not belong here, old man,' she thought. 'You are dead. Go home.'

The shadow listened, apparently a little confused. Once Tyananna released it, it sped away and took the despair along with it. Tyananna had no idea whether it understood what she wanted to tell him, but it was irrelevant.

oooooooooooooooooo

She emerged on the other side of the gorge right before nightfall and she settled down on the shore of a filthy, dark lake. She wanted to eat something and take a nap. Once she unsaddled Nan'Tha, he approached the lake, obviously intending to drink, but after a few gulps he lifted his large head and blinked at Tyananna.

"I know, Nan'Tha," she said with a sigh. "But it is all we have. We will have to make the best out of it."

Once she had a few gulps of the filthy water, she had to confess that he had a point and she cursed in Sith.

"I cannot ride at night any more, not without the Dark side to guide me. We will just have to stay here."

As she lay down to sleep, hearing her horse grumble as he often did when relaxing, she suddenly heard another sound, a strange hissing noise. She drew her M'Hoor, jumped to her feet and looked round herself wildly. It sounded like a snake – and the very prospect of sleeping while a snake was prowling about was not very appealing, she had to admit. She felt so helpless without the Dark side – but there was nothing she could do.

She approached her horse, who was breathing deeply and regularly, still lying and looking as though he was asleep, but she could see that his eyes were wide open and were glittering in the semi-darkness of the starry night, illuminated by the four visible moons of Horukaan.

Every nerve upon the strain, she crouched beside him, waiting for something to come out from the bushes to stab it. And then, a few things happened in a very quick succession.

Nan'Tha jumped up, letting out an excited blow through his nose, his eyes flashing; Tyananna jumped to her feet and assumed a combat position, ready to strike down anything that might approach her, man or animal. Once again she heard the strange hissing sound and saw a few bubbles showing on the surface of the black water. A reptilian, she thought! She made a pace backwards, thinking that at least she now knew where the animal was, at what the black water exploded with a loud whistling sound which echoed the land.

Tyananna ran away from it and collided with her excited horse, who seemed to be beside himself. But as she turned to see what was going on, which infernal beast was coming out from the dark water, she stopped. She stared at the tall cone of water which soared up, unable to grasp what was going on; but as soon as the meaning of this penetrated her confusion, she broke into laughter, lowering her sword.

"Oh, Nan'Tha," she cried, tapping her excited horse on the neck. "We have water!"

She ran toward the lake, holding out what was left of her melons and gathering water in them, still laughing. Nan'Tha realised that she was not scared any more and now carefully approached the water himself, his ears pointed at it like two arrows, his tail standing up in the air like a flag, until he realised that the scary beast was in fact drinkable. He stuck out his tongue and tried to catch some water with it. Tyananna laughed herself stupid at the sight of her black stallion catching water drops with his long pink tongue, twirling it around in the air. She placed one of the melons in front of him and he gratefully began to lap the clear water.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was not before arriving to the Kingdom of Quentaa that something of importance happened.

Tyananna decided to cross the Kingdom in such a way that she would not need to cross the Aalyan river at any point, as she did when she was riding in the opposite direction. It was too much of a nuisance and a delay she did not need.

The majestic river, the greatest and longest river on Horukaan, was so wide one could not see the other shore. In the Kingdom of Quentaa it was already brown and very deep and it could be crossed on a raft during all seasons except for the Watery Season. Then it often spilled out of its bed and flooded the land, destroying all that was unfortunate enough to get in its way. It was the horrible, merciless side of nature which reminded all people of Horukaan, regardless of their race and their wealth, that the nature had two faces. However, the Sith saw the power of the Dark side in torrential rivers, as they did in storms and flashes of lightning.

Tyananna spotted riders heading down the forest path she was following and she grudgingly got into cover. These instances were becoming more and more frequent, to her annoyance.

But as the riders came closer, she recognised the foremost one. He was one of the trustees of the King and she saw him at the Court in Gotan. He wore a goatee and had small, bright eyes. If he was not so short, one might have thought he was born in the Land of Montague, judging by the colour of his hair and his build. His horse, bearing the crest of the Kingdom on its chest, was trotting lightly ahead of all, and the trustee of the King riding it looked rather thoughtful, as though he was concerned about something. Tyananna came out of her cover and raised a hand, giving all of them quite a start.

"Hail, warriors of Quentaa," she said in Albinian.

For some reason she decided to address them as Lady Tarralyanna normally addressed people, who referred to them as 'warriors' if they looked even remotely as warriors at all. They halted, staring at her. Wearing her black cloak and traditional Sith clothes, one could not mistake her for who she was, for no race on Horukaan dressed in that fashion. But Tyananna wanted them to have no doubt about her identity and she lowered her hood, at what the foremost traveller gasped as he recognised her. He bowed to her along with the rest of his companions. They all looked as though they were ready for war. What are they up to, she wondered, staring at their weaponry? It was to be expected from a Sith warrior to travel with half of the smithy strapped to his horse, atop of having adorned himself with swords and daggers – but it was not characteristic for a citizen of the Kingdom of Quentaa. They were clever and able people, never lazy, and always ready to help and work. But Quentaa was not exactly what one would call a land of warriors, such as Gangar was.

"My Lady," he replied, looking up.

Nan'Tha chose this moment to appear behind Tyananna, deciding that now that his mistress was speaking to these humans, that he might as well come out too.

"How unexpected to see you here! Are you riding to see our King?"

"Oh no," she replied, grabbing Nan'Tha's reins.

His back towered over the backs of other horses. The people of Quentaa stared wordlessly at the gigantic horse, whose black coat was covered in sweat and saliva. She must have been riding all day, they thought. But they have never seen such a large horse in their lives.

"No, I am merely passing by," she said with a quick smile. "I am riding to Gotan. Is there something you would want to tell the Dark Lord, perhaps? I can convey your message to him."

"No," the man said quickly, waving his hand, as though the mere thought of the Sith Lord was enough to send cold shivers down his spine. "No, we are on an errand of summoning men of war, as a matter of fact, as he ordered."

"Excellent!" she said. "How is it going?"

"Very well, my Lady," said the Albinian, measuring her up with his glance.

"Since the King of Gotan aided us in our time of trouble and helped our King to reclaim his throne, the people of Quentaa admire him and respect him more than ever. We have not met any who would be unwilling to go to war for him."

"Good," she said, looking and feeling genuinely happy about this. "I shall tell that to my Master."

"But," she said, suddenly remembering something, "you _can_ help me with something, as a matter of fact."

"Name it, my Lady," the Albinian said quickly.

"I have to ride hard for Gotan," she said. "And thus I do not have time to look for food. However, I am certain that you would be more than able to acquire some in the village I just passed."

"Of course, my Lady!" the Albinian said with obvious relief. He was afraid she might ask something of him that he could not do. They had plenty of food, all right. The bag with food was taken down and Tyananna quickly pulled out a few bundles and thanked them, mounting her Nan'Tha.

"Good luck in your quest," she said. From her perspective, the horse of the King's trustee looked like a donkey.

"You too, my Lady," the Albinian replied solemnly.

"May the Darkness be with you," she said a second before she spurred her Nan'Tha, who departed down the forest path in a gallop, leaving nothing but clouds of dust after him.

The Albinians stood glaring after her. They wondered what sort a quest she did not want to tell them about demanded of her to ride night and day and to be armed to teeth.

oooooooooooooooo

Tyananna arrived at the gate of the capital City of Gotan in the dead of night and woke the guards on duty. They jumped to their feet, going white as they saw a figure in black sitting on a large black horse, whose eyes were dangerously flashing. This could mean only one thing.

"Sleeping on duty!" Tyananna roared. They started apologising and tried to invent excuses, but Tyananna did not care about their excuses.

"Oh, _I _shall not be the one to punish you," she laughed at their grovelling, feeling suddenly relaxed and comfortable in her role of Tyananna-the-terrible. "But I shall tell the King about it. Now open the gate!"

They did so, realising that their begging for mercy would only make things worse and started contemplating what their punishment was going to be long after the black horse disappeared down the main street. Tyananna passed swiftly through the quiet streets of the city, leaving it through the eastern gate. The sight of the walls of the Sith Temple and the immortal fire of Yyllen sent shivers of relief and joy to her heart. She smiled as she galloped uphill, toward the black iron gate which lead into the courtyard, feeling more and more excited as the black walls of the Temple grew closer. It seemed as though she would never arrive home – but now that she has, she felt as though she never left.


	43. Chapter 42 - Part Three

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XLII – Field Trip

The vast courtyard was silent. Tyananna opened the gate on her own, rode inside and looked around herself – they all seemed to be sleeping. She jumped down from the back of her Nan'Tha, who seemed very excited about the prospect of being back home, taking in the familiar surroundings with his eyes wide and nostrils flaring. He loved the company of other horses of his kind and he was beyond doubt very impatient to get back to the stables. Just as Tyananna was about to head to the stables, Pentoh, Peetah's husband, appeared behind her. He caught Nan'Tha's reins and bowed to her.

"Do not trouble yourself with that, miss Tyananna," he said. "You must be weary. I shall bring all your things to your chambers."

"Thank you," she said gratefully.

As Tyananna was about to enter the Sith Temple, she spotted Lady Tarralyanna, who seemed to have sensed her coming and came down to greet her. It looked as though she had been running, because her long hair was ruffled and was falling over her face. She grinned broadly at Tyananna and embraced her.

"You have been through quite an adventure, Master tells us," she said, drawing aback to examine Tyananna's pallid face.

"And we would want to hear all about it," Lord Tammutyen's voice said.

Before she knew what was happening, the tall Sith grabbed her and pressed her against his broad chest. Tyananna could not stop grinning at the both of them. This was her family and this quiet building behind them was her home. It seemed that only in this moment she finally realised she was home.

"Oh, I cannot believe I am home at last," she breathed once the monumental Sith let go of her.

He laughed and patted her on the shoulder so hard it hurt. They entered the Temple, holding Tyananna under her arms and talking in hushed voices, deciding to withdraw to Tyananna's chambers in order to hear the account of her adventures, at what they heard a pace down the corridor. Tyananna halted, her heart hammering against her ribs.

The Dark Lord, wearing his own dressing gown atop of something voluminous and black what was clearly his sleeping gown or something similar, was walking steadily down the corridor, his robes billowing behind him. The three Sith got to their knees.

Only when he halted sheer in front of her did it dawn on Tyananna just how much she missed him. She knew it was silly; and she knew it was so human of her, to get attached to a person like this, again, but she could not help herself. For Tyananna he was the embodiment of the Dark side and its power and of everything she admired and strived for. Without thinking she reached out for his hand and kissed it.

"You have come a very long way, my apprentice," he said quietly. "Now come. Now that all three of us are awake and are impatient to hear your story, I daresay there will be no point in trying to sleep. Let us go to the Tea Room. And there you shall tell us everything."

In the meantime Peetah got woken by her husband, and now, tears in her eyes, she walked into the Tea Room carrying tea on a silver tray, a long woollen muffler dragging after her, which she obviously wrapped around her shoulders in a hurry. The four Sith sat around a long coffee-table, whereas Tyananna, filthy and sweaty, sat down in an armchair, feeling utterly relaxed and at peace with the whole world. Peetah wanted to say something, to express her joy that Tyananna was back, but she held her tongue in the presence of the Dark Lord, who raised a commanding hand without looking at her, at what she bowed to him and disappeared.

"Your pursuers have lost your track somewhere by the border of Salom," the Dark Lord said, stirring his tea. He looked quite calm and in what the three Sith called 'conversational mood.' "That has been taken care of. I daresay they have gone back to the Jedi Temple and sat down to a grave council, in the light of your adventure and your escape."

He did not look at Tyananna, but he did not have to. Tyananna could clearly feel praise in his voice. Lord Tammutyen was sitting relaxed on a sofa, cup in his hand, his long black hair slightly ruffled. His deadly pale face was glowing with pride as he looked at Tyananna. Lady Tarralyanna was leaning forward with her own cup in her hand, spoon between her teeth, and was beaming at Tyananna, looking anxious to hear everything that happened to her.

Tyananna took in her surroundings. The paintings on the walls, mostly of mountain sceneries; the silver candelabra with two candles burning in it; the rich, black carpet; the long black curtains which extended from the ceiling to the floor; the figurine of a Sith standing with his one foot on a skull and brandishing a sword; the cupboard with drink, saucers and teacups, painted in dark brown; an ancient mace which hung on the wall; the scent of cinnamon which spread from a bowl in the corner; the coffee-table, with its ornamented rims and legs shaped as dragon claws; and the silence, the ineffable silence – that was home, Tyananna was certain.

"I do not know how to thank you for that, my Master," Tyananna said quietly. She could finally speak Sith all day long.

"You are my apprentice, are you not?" the Dark Lord asked rhetorically, lifting an eyebrow. "You were on an errand for the Dark side, were you not?"

Tyananna nodded, remembering all the lonely nights she spent in the saddle, longingly thinking about the Sith Temple and her new family and yes, especially about the Dark Lord.

She plunged into her story without delay. The Dark Lord lit his pipe, slumped aback in his seat with his legs crossed and closed his eyes, rings emanating from his mouth and rising to the ceiling. Lord Tammutyen was also smoking and was staring without blinking at her, as she proceeded with her narrative. Their attention – for Tyananna was certain that the Dark Lord was listening attentively, the more with the fact that he closed his eyes – flattered her.

When she told them about her escape from the Jedi Temple and what exactly happened, how she jumped out of the window, Lady Tarralyanna let out a quiet exclamation, while Lord Tammutyen muttered a curse. During her story about her escape from the Mangora mines, they seemed as anxious as she was while she was running through the mines. However, the Dark Lord looked as unperturbed as ever, smoking in silence, nodding every now and then, his eyes still closed, his expression inscrutable.

Tyananna proceeded to the part of her tale when she was eavesdropping on the people of Salom and she looked at the Dark Lord across the table. She stopped talking, waiting for some sort of a comment, for something else to come out of those thin, cruel mouth, other than smoke.

"When I have sent you on your errand," he said at last, "I have put my trust in your sense of judgement. Your logic and your conclusions are quite in order. There is no point worrying about a stray drunkard; for we have more important things to worry about. And, yes, your conclusion is fitting as well – undoubtedly he will get killed very soon and thus spare us the trouble. Continue, my apprentice."

Tyananna went on. Tyananna described exactly what she felt when the 'evil spirit' confronted her.

"I once had a similar experience," Lady Tarralyanna said eagerly. "Such spirits enjoy harassing those who can sense them. But they do not normally encounter people who are not afraid and who are ready to strike back."

"Continue," the Dark Lord said with a hint of a smile hovering on his lips.

Tyananna explained how she and her horse found a geyser. Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen laughed loudly to her story and her vivid descriptions and she was certain that the Dark Lord's mouth twitched a few times in an effort not to smile, before his lips became a straight line once again. He nodded at her as she told him about his trustees from Quentaa, who were assembling the Dark army. At long last, Tyananna sank into silence.

Tyananna and Lord Tammutyen started a wordless dispute over his pipe. She reached after it, wanting to try it, but he did not want to let go. Just as she managed to pull it out of his claws, the Dark Lord opened his eyes and sprang out of his chair, giving all of them a start. Now with Tammutyen's pipe in her hands, Tyananna stared at him as he began to pace the Tea Room.

"You have done a great service to me," the Dark Lord said in a voice which sent shivers down Tyananna's spine. "And to the Dark side, Tyananna. Indeed, it was a test for you. But you have kept to the ways of the Dark side and you have done it a favour. Needless to say that you have passed your test."

He would not scold her for anything? She took a great risk by hiding in the Council Room and she was certain that the Dark Lord would think that her actions have been rash and too bold.

"You have acted like a Sith," the Dark Lord said simply, hearing her thoughts. "A Sith knows his objective – and he would go to any length to fulfil it. He does not know fear, nor does he falter before anything that has to be done. But at the same time, he is calculated and he thinks of everything, he always has a back-up plan, in case the primary one fails. As have you. It was not how a Jedi would have acted, for he would have come to the conclusion that the plan was simply too dangerous and would have abandoned it."

He paused by the window, or where a window was supposed to be, hidden underneath the black curtains, his hands crossed on his back.

"Now we know," he said quietly. "The Caelians have meddled in and offered help to the Jedi. Their help – but not their support. That is encouraging. They choose once again not to get drawn into the confrontations of the three races living on land. They choose to continue their life in Lateen, the oceanic kingdom, and they believe that in this way they might avoid the war. Not this time."

"Now the Jedi know about us. They have seen you – and felt the Dark side in you," he went on. "And we can predict what their course of action will be, now that we have heard what they were planning to do, even before Tyananna appeared before them. It was very clever of you to give them a hint before you proceeded to the actual eavesdropping, Tyananna. It gave you the chance to observe them and to listen to their conclusions and thoughts on the issue. Now we can draw our own conclusions from their actions, having witnessed their reasoning first-hand through your eyes."

Tyananna did not think about it in that way. She had no idea what made her do it. The Dark side made me do it, she thought. Was that it? The Dark side was giving her hints about what would be the best course of action to take? Indeed, she had to confess to herself. She was alone and she had to put her trust in the Dark side, as her guide and adviser. It was her weapon, her strength, and she reached after it automatically, naturally, without thinking about it. But it was the right thing to do. How very convenient, she thought, wondering at herself! The things one does without thinking are actually the right things to do.

"They will summon a meeting and they will undoubtedly look for you," the Dark Lord said. "Even if they would be asked, our allies would deny knowing anything about it. But it matters very little; for war is nearly here and we must act. The Dark side must make its move."

He approached the coffee-table, lost in thought. They have never seen him thoughtful like this and they felt the Dark side swirling around him, despite of the fact he was not using it. It felt as though it was drawn to him because of his plans for the future, for his decisions that would not only affect, but rather define the life and future of all races living on Horukaan. He was thinking about its fate and the fate of the nations of the world; and in that state, the Dark side was drawn to him magnetically.

"Let them search for the Sith," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

There was a Sith game on the table, at which he was staring absently. It was a twelve-sided, smooth, marble board, with black and white fields drawn on it. Tyananna knew that game. She played it many times with Lady Tarralyanna and she found the rules very complicated. As it was the case with the majority of Sith games, it was not merely a game, but also a good exercise for one's logic.

The Dark Lord lifted a finger and the black figurine of the king moved forward, to stop on one of the white fields in the middle, with the word 'death' written across it. This simple gesture made every Tyananna's hair stand on its end.

"Too long we have sat in the shadow of the world, my apprentices," he said, glancing over them. "Now it is time for the world to get to know the Sith."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

And as predicted, a grand meeting was taking place at the Jedi Temple. Masters, members of the Council, everyone except apprentices and Padawans were invited, and were now sitting in a large hall, wearing grave expressions. When master Quallath got to his feet, everyone went mute, staring at him.

"The evil has shown its face," he said quietly. "It was there for us to see it. This Sith has managed to infiltrate our Temple, to hide in one of the chests and to actually listen to our meeting without us noticing it. That, I confess, is a great blow to me and to the Jedi Order in general. We have been blind."

He sounded both angry and sad at the same time.

"We have all seen her, we must have," master Quallath said.

Master Feth raised a hand.

"I have seen a strange boy in the garden," he said, his voice betraying that he felt ashamed of himself. "I was in a hurry, though then I thought I have never seen him before. But we have so many Padawans; it is impossible to know all of them."

"It was not a boy, but a girl, who looked like a boy," master Quallath said. "And you ought not to be ashamed of yourself – she managed to trick all of us."

"He... she," master Feth started, now correcting himself and shaking his head, "dropped a ball. I returned it to her and she thanked me, using my name."

"She must have overheard it," master Quallath said. "Oh, she is a master of disguise. Both in the Force sense, as in the contemporary sense. She cloaked herself, hid before the eyes of the Force. This is one capability of the Sith we can be sure of – they can make themselves invisible, if they want to. When I have first opened the chest, I have seen nothing out of the ordinary, merely candles and cloths; but then I saw a human shape, though only for a moment, and I have drawn my sword right on time. The Dark side was in her and now I can say that I have felt it for the first time in my life. How did it feel, you once asked me? Now I can tell you. It felt like a cold hand of an infernal beast. It was all around her, like a cloak, and it jumped to her every command like a raging tongue of fire. I admit; I was startled. It felt almost as an unleashed beast, driven by hatred and anger."

The Jedi were silent, staring at master Quallath, the wisest, the most powerful Jedi. And yet he looked beaten and ashamed of himself. This was a personal blow, they felt; for he failed to find the Sith, despite of the fact that he chased after her for days. He and the other master returned to Mangora, confused and baffled, after they madly galloped for five hours following the trail of a doe, during which time the Sith disappeared, and try as they could, they could not find her track again. It seemed almost as though she vanished into thin air. In the light of the situation, they have not seen their failure as the work of the Dark side and the Dark Lord's fingers were very crafty in confusing them. They have returned to Mangora and there spoke to the Droddians. Ruthok was quite unpleasant and inhospitable and their interrogation yielded nothing.

/flashback

"There was someone who stole two of our best horses, though," Ruthok said, baring his yellow teeth at the white-bearded Jedi master. "And I should very much like to know who took them. Or does my underground City now belong to the Jedi as well, so that they might take what they will? Perhaps you might like some of my donkeys, too?"

"We had nothing to do with the theft of your horses," master Quallath said sharply. "We need information from you, to tell us whether..."

"Ooh, he wants information," Ruthok said, laughing loudly and turning to one of his warriors, who was staring at the Jedi with obvious hatred and shifted his brown paw lower down the length of his spear. "That is why he sneaks into my City and steals my horses!"

"We have not stolen your horses, we swear solemnly," said the other Jedi patiently. "But we are asking for a bit of help from you. Please, _do_ try to put your resentment aside and talk to us. It could affect the fates of us all."

"Really?" Ruthok said, making a few paces toward him and bringing himself into the Jedi's face, who blinked as the black eyes of the ruler of Mangora bored into him and tried to ignore the stench which spread from the Droddian warrior. "The good old Jedi, brave knights who protect the world, who are unselfish and never yield to anger, or resort to violence! Well, I _am_ selfish, and I do not care about the Jedi or about the rest of the world, unlike _you_. And I am very prone to anger and can get _extremely_ violent, unlike you. So save your pleadings for someone who gives a damn, will you?"

"It is imperative that we know!" master Quallath cried, his patience swiftly wearing off. "Have you been protecting the Sith?"

"The S-what?" Ruthok said, furrowing his brow, feigning he had no idea what the Jedi master was talking about. "I have graciously told you that my horses have been stolen, as an answer to your question of whether anything strange happened lately. And I draw the line here. This is right about all the pestering that I am going to take, from either you, or anyone else."

"We shall come back when you resolve your problem with the horses and then we might be able to talk in a more dignified manner," master Quallath said, turning to go, as he saw that there was no point in trying to reason with the enraged Droddian chief, whose was flaring his nostrils like a furious bull.

"You come back," Ruthok said in a low, dangerous voice, a muscle going in his cheek, "And I will slaughter all of you. You might be wizards, with your forces and everything, levitating things about and doing all sorts of conjuring tricks, but I have hundreds of brave Droddian warriors who would be more than happy to be given a chance to kill a few Jedi."

"Is that a threat?" master Quallath asked, turning fully to him and eyeing him.

They knew that Ruthok was not exactly fond of the Jedi, but so far there has never been a conflict. However, they have never exactly tried to come here and just knock at his door, as they have done now.

"As threatening as a threat can be," the Droddian said, drawing himself up to his full height, at what the warriors behind him bared their teeth in approval and seemed to be grinning. They are like animals, thought the other master, glancing over them. And Ruthok is right; we would risk a bloodshed, whereas they do not care whether they live or die, they are just too hungry for battle. It is just not worth it. Thus they returned to the Jedi Temple and called up a meeting.

/end flashback

"I think we all agree on one point – we must find this Sith," master Quallath said.

Everyone nodded gravely. Their decision was unanimous this time, but there were times they had to put things to a vote and thus the majority prevailed. There was no such thing as the Sith council; for the Dark Lord's word was the first and the final. But the Sith apprentices knew he knew best and that he was the voice of the Dark side on Horukaan. Thus there was no need for a council.

"Well," master Quallath said with an air of finality. "We shall travel in twos. Each master shall take his apprentice with him. Now we know that there is a Sith around, it can mean only one thing – war. We must be ready and your apprentices will learn faster if they are with you. There is no point in separating you now and we shall keep to the ancient Jedi tradition."

"You shall travel to every land on this Continent and beyond and you shall search for clues," he went on. "Should you find her, do not approach her, or show yourselves. You shall tail her, spy on her, as she spied on us, and try to find out as much as you can about her, about her ways, and whether she already made allies. And..."

He glanced over them and his expression softened a little upon seeing all the serious faces which surrounded him.

"We have already lost three good Jedi because of our ignorance. Put your trust in the Force and let it guide you. In these hard times, we must rely on the Force and allow it to be our guide and guardian, or else we are betraying all that we are and all that we stand for."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Miles and miles away, there was a light glowing in the Dark Lord's tower as the three Sith came out into the garden, turning to look at it over their shoulders. The Dark Lord went to his study straight after lunch and has not come out since. Every now and then, Peetah, who was busy in the garden, saw a window open and then close after a while, which led her to believe that the Dark Lord was smoking obsessively and had to get rid of the smoke somehow.

"Good," Tyananna said, throwing herself into a wickerwork chair and putting her feet up. "Sitting is very good."

Obviously inspired by the new development of matter, the training this morning was exceptionally brutal. Tyananna already had her day off but today she had to attend the training.

"What have you been doing while I was gone?" she asked the other two.

"A lot," Lady Tarralyanna said. "The bridge across the gorge is complete. My calculations were finished little after you were gone and Master had a bridge built there, according to my plans. It is just as I imagined it; and the workers have managed to follow my calculations to the finest detail. You will see."

"Oh, wonderful!" Tyananna exclaimed.

"Messengers came and went," Lord Tammutyen said in his deep voice, looking at her. "The Dark Lord apparently ordered general Korrugen to summon the Gotan army and he has been beside himself ever since. The whole Court is in a constant state of chaos."

"Soon everything will change," Lady Tarralyanna said quietly.

"As it should," Lord Tammutyen said in a determined voice. "Our Master must be enthroned. The Dark side must rule the world. It is written in the stars."

"What do _you_ know about the stars?" Lady Tarralyanna laughed contemptuously.

Lord Tammutyen threw her a filthy look.

"I might not know much about astronomy and I cannot recite all the names of all of the stars like you can," he said, sounding offended. "But I know signs when I see them. Heh'Glah has arisen before the Great War. And now it is here again and it is unmovable. You might not be able to find out why it is so and are getting more frustrated by the day. But I do not need to, nor do I believe that finding out would change anything. For me it is the herald of the Era of the Dark side."

Lady Tarralyanna was left without an argument and merely stared stubbornly at the star, frowning at it, as though it was all its fault she could not unravel its secrets.

"And, you," Lord Tammutyen said unexpectedly, now pleased with the fact he managed to say something that made Lady Tarralyanna shut up, "have been a hero. I must apologise for all the doubts in you I ever had and for all scorn that I directed at you. I did not see this in you. You have developed into a great Sith warrior indeed."

Tyananna blinked. He gave her a secretive smile and pulled something out of his robes, placing it upon the table before Tyananna.

"As soon as Master told us of your escape," he said softly, "I have made this for you, in my free time."

It was a wooden figurine of a horse, rearing back on its hind legs, and the resemblance between the figurine and her Nan'Tha was remarkable. It had the same snout, the same wild eyes, the same bushy mane. The horse was painted black and its eyes were made out of two round crystals, which could be found in the mountain streams above the Temple. Tyananna took it and turned it over. It was such an intricate, detailed work, that she was left speechless.

"I love it," she said quietly.

"So," Lady Tarralyanna said across the table. "You have duelled two Jedi masters and for the first time you have done it with the Dark side. How was it?"

"Oh," Tyananna said eloquently. "It all happened too fast. It felt very much different. I know, I had the Dark side and Master's training and all, but it all felt somehow different. The Jedi felt different. In that moment, whether it is because of the circumstances or because of the Dark side, I felt no fear at all. I did not think about anything and I was completely focused on my task."

"Just imagine them," Lord Tammutyen sighed, dreamily gazing at his coffee cup. "They are now discussing the mysterious and terrible Sith who attacked them. They have probably seen a horrible face and a pair of horns on your head."

"Well," Tyananna laughed, "I had soot smeared all over my face and my hair was standing up – I daresay they would be able to make a lot out of that."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

The Jedi read all of the historic accounts on the Sith, after what master Quallath presented a large notebook to the assembled Jedi. It was the diary of one of the famous Jedi masters who lived in the Second Age, known by the name of Alla-Taddi, which was preserved and kept in the archives of the Order.

"'_In my dealings with the Sith_,'" master Quallath read aloud to the many masters who listened attentively, "_'I have_ _seen them employ the Dark side as we employ the light side, in a similar manner, meaning, to manipulate objects around us and enhance one's abilities. However, the Dark side is so volatile and so unstable that I cannot see how a human being could ever hope to control it and bend it to his will. The Dark side is a well of destructiveness to my Force eyes and a dangerous weapon which can always turn against its user. To me, the Dark side seems uncontrollable in its essence and with regard to the way in which the Jedi control and use the Force_.'"

"'_I am of the firmest conviction that a Sith, or a servant of Darkness, is able to disappear from our eyesight and from the sight of the Force. How this is done, it will remain to baffle me to the end of my days. The only explanation I have arrived at is that he somehow melts with Darkness and becomes a part of it. In this manner he would be able to walk through the world and yet not be a part of it. But this is merely speculation. Let my brethren not think that this is any conclusion formed on a factual basis_.'"

"'_And now to continue to my encounter with the Dark Lord's apprentice (what he told us himself). When I have first seen him, I could not detect any sign of Force-sensitivity in him. The light side of the Force penetrated him as easily as it penetrates every living and non-living thing. He seemed perfectly human to me, I must confess, though overly arrogant and impertinent. But when prodded, when provoked, a Dark twirl formed around him, and rose from its depths. It was a revelation, almost like an opening of a box, which seemed to contain uncontrollable rage and hatred, despair and destructiveness of the worst kind. My apprentice and I have acted on the spur of the moment and drew our swords, frightened by what we have felt. Now I can say that I am ashamed of my reaction and of the irrational fear which overwhelmed me. But I have never before felt anything like it. We have killed him without reluctance, when he was caught off guard (for he had been exceedingly drunk), and thought we have done well. But I write here, for all of my brethren to know, that I have not acted in a Jedi fashion, that I have betrayed our principles because of my weakness and because I was afraid. This is no excuse for a Jedi master; and it should never be an excuse. Let my brethren know this and avoid making the same mistake, should they ever encounter such a creature_.'"

"Here is a passage which describes the Sith Lord of the Second Age," master Quallath said, carefully flipping through the notebook. "'_A__ figure in black came through the gate, with its face concealed by a hood, and I shall never forget the sight. That, what I have first felt as a young master, when I have encountered the Sith Lord's apprentice, I have felt once again_. _He drew out something that resembled a sword, but I have never seen such a sword on Horukaan and in that short moment when I caught a glimpse of it I thought it was a strange meld between a mace and a sword. Then he disappeared out of sight, as though vanishing into thin air. However, as our encounter with the Dark army continued, I could see our men being struck down by an invisible hand and I directed the eyes of the Force at that place. They could see nothing; but like a wraith it acted, invisible, unleashing the horrors of Darkness upon us_.'"

"This is the best description that we can start with," master Quallath said, putting down the notebook with a thoughtful expression. "And it explains so much, do you not think so? I have seen it myself; the Sith sprang out of thin air at me."

"What was she like, master?" asked one with apprehension. "Have you seen her face? You say it was a girl; master Feth says it was a boy. Maybe it can change shape?"

"Oh, I would not go so far. Feth?" master Quallath addressed him.

Master Feth stood up uncertainly.

"I thought it was a boy," he said carefully. "His face was in shadows. But... I thought it was a Droddian half-blood. His face was dark."

"I have seen that, too," master Quallath said thoughtfully. "But our encounter was so short and it all happened too fast to say anything for certain. However, I have noted that her face was that of a female. I am almost certain it was a female. Her hair, however... though it was dark at places, I could see its true colour. It was bright red, like that of a flame."

The Jedi masters exclaimed and exchanged quick comments on this.

"We do not perhaps have accurate descriptions of how the Sith Lord of the Second Age looked like," master Quallath said loudly. "Perhaps we are better off not knowing. There is a reason why they conceal their faces, I believe. The face that I have seen, although it was that of a female, was everything but pretty and human. Therefore I must agree with the late master Alla-Taddi – the Sith are not human. Whether they can change shape – I would not go that far. Though it is possible that the Dark side allows them to undertake certain alterations of appearance."

"If I am correct," said one, raising a hand, "master Alla-Taddi said that the young man they encountered said himself that he was the Sith Lord's apprentice. Does that not give us insight into the way they function? They also have masters and apprentices and this young man was a student of the Sith Lord's."

"That is a very good point," master Quallath said, nodding sharply. The master who spoke sat down with an expression of satisfaction on her face. "Yes, I believe this can tell us a lot. A Sith must also learn and be trained in the Dark side by someone, as we have seen on a few... incidents here, at the Jedi Temple. One cannot simply choose to cross to the Dark side. He obviously has to be taught and guided."

"Now, the Sith I have encountered fought in a manner which seemed rather familiar to me. And yet I cannot say how she did or managed certain things. We must leave that to the mystery of the Dark side, for I do not believe that this concerns only her combat skills. She could levitate things, as well as we do, yes. She jumped over our heads to avoid us, which suggests familiarity with combat tactics. She used the Dark side to help her, I felt it. She also levitated a chair and sent it flying through the window. As much as I am inclined to believe master Alla-Taddi, I cannot say that her use of the Dark side was uncontrolled. It was obeying her all right, though not in the way we are accustomed to."

"I have a question for all of you," said one, crossing his hands on his chest. "If the Sith exist in master-apprentice relationships, then we must suppose she is either the student, or the teacher. The Sith Lord of the Second Age is dead, gone to the Accursed Land to die in solitude and misery of his defeat. So it is impossible that he is her teacher. Thus we must suppose that she is the teacher."

"Two Sith," master Quallath muttered, nervously getting to his feet and rubbing his eyes, as though he could make all of this horror simply disappear by doing so. "That is more than I can bear. I am afraid I must agree with you. She fought with us, the two of us, and, Dark side or not, she escaped. I must conjecture, therefore, that she is the master, however young she seemed. We cannot know whether they age, being inhuman, and therefore to judge according to her apparent age would be a mistake."

"Then there must be an apprentice of hers somewhere," said the female Jedi master who spoke before.

"If she acquired one, that is," master Feth said. "There is yet a possibility that she has not acquired an apprentice yet."

"That is a very hopeful prospect," Quallath said. "But, if she has not, she would certainly search for one. Where would she find an apprentice? It is my belief now, after everything we have read, that the Sith apprentices are human in the beginning, as we have seen on the example of the young man master Alla-Taddi killed. He said that he was quite certain that he was human and I say we should trust his judgement, as he saw him face to face. They must be human, and then, by the corruption which the use of the Dark side imposes upon an individual, they must be transformed into something inhuman, something beastly. Therefore, in her search for an apprentice, she would be searching for a human."

"We know about all the Force-sensitive individuals on Horukaan, as they are all here. The Sith would not go after a child, because it would be of no use to her," Quallath went on. "No; she intends to wage war and she has no time. She needs a grown-up, someone who is quite ready to be trained in the Dark side. As we are aware of all Force-sensitive people, like I said, I must conjecture she would search at the Jedi Temple."

Then he slapped himself on the forehead and glanced around the room.

"That is why she was here!" he exclaimed. "She was searching for a student! Quick! We must summon all the Jedi and see whether anyone is missing. We must know!"

The Jedi masters left the hall in a hurry. Force knows how long this Sith has been in the Temple; she might have taken any apprentice, any Padawan she liked, and they would not have noticed. As the children lined up in the garden with expressions of greatest confusion, the eyes of master Quallath, who was supervising this, travelled over the long lists that the masters carried in their hands. In cold perspiration he watched the children raise hands when their names were called, casting glances at the serious and grave expression of master Quallath, who stood on a balcony, watching and anxiously awaiting the return of all of the teachers.

"They are all accounted for, master," they said, one by one, and master Quallath breathed with relief.

"Oh," he sighed, wiping sweat off his brow. "That is well. That is indeed well. But now we know – and we must protect the apprentices and Padawans while we are away. We must think of a way to do this."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

The Jedi would have never guessed what was going on inside the Sith Temple, even if they could imagine such a thing existed. The two female Sith were busy with each other's hair, their eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Are you sure that Master would approve of this?" Tyananna asked.

The Dark Lord was almost constantly locked in his Tower after Tyananna came back home and would come down only to supervise their trainings, but mostly he would just leave a note with instructions behind. They knew better than to try to cheat and thus trained diligently, just as he ordered them to do. As a consequence, as this was the twelfth day of the week and hence their free day, they had no idea whether they were allowed to go to the City or not.

"Of course he would," Tarralyanna said with certainty.

The two female Sith were dressed according to the Gotan tradition as they wanted to go to the City in disguise and see how people really lived. Lady Tarralyanna was eager to learn more about their lifestyle and Tyananna thought it would be interesting. Lord Tammutyen was grudgingly tagging along, though he was not beside himself with excitement at the prospect.

"I wonder where Tammutyen is?" Tyananna asked thoughtfully, glancing toward the door. "He said he would come down to my chambers and meet us here. He is not chasing goats again, is he?"

"Oh, brother probably put his pants on his head by mistake, buttoned his shirt wrong, or got tangled up in his cloak, or something," Lady Tarralyanna said with a snort. "This is so uncomfortable! How do women manage it?"

"Well, they do not run or perform b'daars in their dresses, so they do not notice how uncomfortable their clothes is," Tyananna said with a laugh. "They are only concerned with aesthetics."

"So irrelevant... useless... slaves of inefficiency..." Lady Tarralyanna muttered, lighting a cigarette and sitting down.

Upon reflection, Tyananna realised that she would probably need to give her lessons in proper behaviour. Lady Tarralyanna had no idea how ladies behaved. She walked like a man, she normally sat with her legs wide apart, and she had the habit of cleaning her teeth with the next best thing she could find for the purpose, mostly with her nails.

"It is going to be fascinating, though," Lady Tarralyanna continued, her eyes twinkling fanatically. "We will finally have the chance of observing people in their natural habitat. Even though I feel strange in these clothes. I feel like I am wearing a patch of grass."

"Have you never worn anything except black?" Tyananna asked, a little confused.

She was a child when the Dark Lord brought her to the Sith Temple and she simply could not imagine little Tarralyanna wearing a tiny sad'khai. However, she was wrong. Atop of the tiny sad'khai she wore, little Tarralyanna slept in a large bed covered in black sheets with as many black pillows as she wanted to have.

"Never," Lady Tarralyanna said, lifting an eyebrow. "As soon as we began working with the Dark side, our eyes were getting more and more sensitive to light. Thus dark clothes eased our functioning in general."

"Then I can understand your confusion," Tyananna said, sighing. "I felt the same way about black when Peetah brought me my first sad'khai."

"The differences in the causes of our affliction are great, but they are uncannily alike in the underlying principle," Lady Tarralyanna said seriously.

Tyananna chuckled and turned toward the door as they both heard footsteps. The door opened and Lord Tammutyen walked inside.

He was frowning to himself and was looking utterly miserable. He looked so uncomfortable and so miserable that the two female Sith burst into laughter.

"Laugh, laugh," he barked grumpily. "Well, I put on everything you told me to, Tyananna. Why are you laughing? Do I not look all right?"

Lord Tammutyen was dressed in a traditional Gotan nobleman attire, which stretched across his bulky physique like a cobweb over the branch of a tree. It looked a bit too small for him and he pulled his shirt down impatiently. However, apart from a sword the noblemen often carried, there were two more scabbards hanging from his girdle.

"What is that?" Tyananna asked sharply.

"What?" he asked, following Tyananna's glance to his girdle. "Well, I had to bring a few proper swords with me. This joke of a sword counts for nothing."

"Tammu," Tyananna said patiently. "We do not need any weapons."

"Speak for yourself," Lady Tarralyanna muttered. She concealed a long stiletto in her sleeve – a weapon she was very of fond of and was an expert in throwing it.

Some habits could not be rooted out. Luckily, Tyananna did not hear her.

"The City is the capital City of our Master's," Tyananna said patiently, gently taking the extra swords from him. "And we are merely going out to do some field work, as Tarra calls it."

Lady Tarralyanna inclined her head and pointed with her cigarette at her, tacitly expressing her agreement.

"We are going to have a nice drink, observe the people and that is all. You do not need weapons."

"Oh, all right," Lord Tammutyen frowned, shaking his head.

"I think I know why the people of Gotan like to drink a lot," he growled. "With clothes this uncomfortable, one has to in order to forget about the discomfort."

Tyananna chuckled and shook her head.

"You are just playing a role, that is all," she said firmly. "I had to play the role of a Jedi, you know. Everything depended on my good act."

"Well, you used to be one," Lady Tarralyanna said, sounding surprised. "It was not that hard, was it?"

"Actually..." Tyananna started.

The two stared at her and waited for an answer.

"It _was_ hard," Tyananna confessed. "It all seems like a distant dream, like the life of someone else. I felt somehow... superior to them with everything I learned here at the Temple. And acting like a Jedi again was just an act. No part of me felt it was genuine."

"But when I escaped, I felt finally free again," she added with a smile. "It felt so liberating finally to be able to be who I really am."

"Perhaps," Lord Tammutyen said as she paused, "Perhaps deep within you still felt the pull toward the Jedi and their way of life. It was, after all, the first thing you learned to admire. But when you finally resolved this issue, you felt ecstatic."

Tyananna wanted to protest, but she had to admit that perhaps he had a point.

"It is only natural and you ought not be ashamed of it," he went on before she could say something. "You need to be honest with yourself, because if you are not, the Dark side will use it against you."

ooooooooooooooo

As they followed the underground passage to the City, Tyananna had ample time to think about what he said. Perhaps he was right. At no time she felt tempted to go back to her old ways, but the sight of the Council Room and those chairs did evoke a strange feeling of regret in her. She knew that there was no point in thinking about it, that the past was gone and that she had to focus on the present, but she concluded that at some point she finally let go of her dream of becoming a member of the Jedi Council. There was no more regret in her. This was where she belonged and she would not give it up for anything in the world.

She was still lost in thought when she asked for a table in the busiest pub in the City and sat with Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna, who kept casting interested glances around themselves.

"Tiya," Lady Tarralyanna called to her.

Tyananna looked absently at her.

"What are they doing?"

She pointed at a group of young men playing cards. A wench was leaning against one of them, staring at the cards he was holding in his hands.

"Playing cards," Tyananna answered flatly. "And judging by the arrangement of cards on the table, I think they are playing Court-and-Dame."

"Such an interesting name!" Lady Tarralyanna exclaimed. "You will explain the rules to us later, will you? But what I wanted to know is what the woman is doing. Is she the young man's lover? Why does she not sit beside him? Is that some sort of a custom? Do women not play cards?"

"Not by default," Tyananna said, now realising what was baffling Lady Tarralyanna. "She is a wench and she probably located the man who is winning, knowing he would have money to lie with her."

"Oh?" Lady Tarralyanna asked. Lord Tammutyen turned in his seat to cast a glance at the group. "Because she likes rich men?"

"Not really," Tyananna said, laughing. "Well, that is one way of putting it. But she has her eye on him because if he has money, he would lie with her, and pay her well for it."

"Pay her for it?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She directed a contemptuous glance at the wench and frowned, the expression of childish interest quickly fading.

"I have never heard such nonsense. Women wanting money for their own pleasure, I ask you."

"But she does it all the time," Tyananna said with a sigh. "It is hardly pleasure for her at all. She does this for a living, you see. As there are other occupations, like merchants, sword-makers and hairdressers, she sells her body to make a living."

Lady Tarralyanna held herself back from cursing in Sith right on time.

"A horrible thought!" she said in a shocked voice, shuddering. "One's body is one's body and he should be the master of it! It is not property to be bought and sold. She is like a slave! One can do that with slaves, but one does not need to pay them."

"Yes, that is a very good way of putting it," said Tyananna, thinking about this.

If one has never learned about such everyday things, as Tyananna called them, one sees them from an entirely different perspective.

"She is probably destitute and this is the only thing that she can do."

"Correct me if I am wrong," Lord Tammutyen said, leaning a little forward, "but are not animals also capable of procreation? How can it be hard?"

Tyananna laughed. Their comments were refreshing.

The woman who served at the bar came round to ask them what they wanted to drink at that moment. She was a little older than thirty and Tyananna was pretty certain that she was the innkeeper's wife.

"What 'tll be for you, then?" she asked in a mixture of Albinian and old Gotan language, which was still used among the people, despite of the King's disapproval.

The woman's glance fell upon Lady Tarralyanna's rings, who had her hands on the table at that moment and was busy with her cigarette box. She quickly glanced over the hands of all three, adding two and two together, and dropped the bowl with soup she was carrying in shock, which rolled under the table with a clatter. She quickly dived under the table, both as to retrieve it, as to kneel, for she recognised the one ring they all wore. It was royal insignia and the three unfortunately forgot all about it. Lady Tarralyanna cursed.

"Now, good lady," Tyananna said, grabbing her by the arm, at what she felt the woman shudder, both because Tyananna must have felt cold, as because one of the members of the royal family has just touched her. "Pray do not say our names. We have come to your pub merely to have a drink and sit around ordinary people. We have wanted, only once, to sit with the people and see what it is like. I know we can put our trust in you and that you will not betray us."

"Of course, Your Majesty," the poor woman stuttered, now picking up the spoon which rolled over to Lord Tammutyen's feet.

"No titles," Tyananna said with a conspiratorial smile. "Just keep our secret."

The woman nodded, slowly and shakily getting to her feet. Tyananna ordered their drinks and the woman scampered away, looking extremely nervous.

"Well done, Tiya," Lady Tarralyanna said, leaning forward. "Excellent! I would never have thought of diplomacy. I would have thought that the woman was too shocked to be reasoned with and would have employed threats."

"Sometimes a bit of flattering and a comforting word can do wonders," Tyananna said, smiling at her.

"Flattering?" Lord Tammutyen echoed in a deep growl. "A Sith does not _flatter_ anyone. He speaks the truth. Nor does he bow before anyone but the Dark Lord."

"But Tammu," Tyananna said, "Your reasoning lacks dimension. I did not say that I would _mean_ it; it is merely how such gestures affect common people. And they generally respond very well indeed to flattering. You do not have to mean what you say."

"Such marvellous psychology," Lady Tarralyanna said enthusiastically. "A wonderful play with validity! Fantastic. Tammu, you should pay attention to what she says. Sometimes you seriously _do_ lack a sense of dimension, you know."

The innkeeper's wife returned with drinks at that moment and they fell silent.

"Here," she said in a trembling voice, placing their drinks before them. "Should you require anything at all, or if someone is pestering you, just call me. It is an honour to have you in my pub. And I shall keep your secret, never fear."

"We knew you would understand," Tyananna said softly, nodding at her.

The woman went with a very self-satisfied look on her face and the three Sith exchanged glances.

"You see?" Tyananna said, turning to the two with a smug look on her face. "It works. Now, rings off before someone else comes along."

Now that they were in the public, they spoke Albinian and Tyananna served as an excellent mistake-correcting tool, though there were not many. They were actually pretty good at Albinian, she thought, but could sometimes confuse prepositions, as Sith had only a few. Lord Tammutyen was good at Droddian, because his desire to read about Droddian legends and their war accounts forced him to delve deeper into the language, whereas Lady Tarralyanna understood and spoke quite a bit of Caelian, being forced to learn it because some of the scriptures she was reading were in Caelian. They learned the basics of Malaskian from Peetah, who has been only too happy to assist them.

Tyananna began to understand the importance of speaking all languages of the world when Lady Tarralyanna pointed out to her that in war they would most certainly have to speak to the Dark Lord's allies and that they could not possibly expect all of them to speak Albinian. Tyananna found Droddian relatively simple – one could simply pile up words and it would always mean something. The Droddian language had very simple grammar. On the other hand, Sith had no genders, unlike Albinian or Malaskian, and the only trouble with it was its extensive vocabulary, with many words for different meanings of a single word in Albinian and the pronunciation, which made a person speaking Sith sound like a strange cross between a hissing snake, a spitting cat and a dog choking on a bone. Malaskian sounded like the chattering of birds – the words rolled quickly one after another. It however contained a large quantity of adjectives and adverbs. For instance, to describe the scent of coffee, Peetah would use at least ten different adjectives, which were mostly comparisons with either animals, plants, natural phenomena or feelings.

Caelian, on the other hand, as Lady Tarralyanna told her, was very abstract. The Caelian words looked like a mass of curves and lines to Tyananna, who could not make out individual letters. It did not express things in the terms of what one sees in the world, feelings, or animal and plant characteristics, like the Malaskian did. The Caelians' views of the world were strongly influenced by their work. They had very few words which described feelings and most of their vocabulary originated from their occupation. Thus, if a Caelian met another Caelian, he would first note to which House he belonged, judging by the colour and appearance of his robes, and would greet him accordingly. A member of the House of Alchemists would be greeted with: "May revelation come to you, atop of three," thereby, of course, referring to the three primary elements the Alchemists worked with. Whereas a member of the House of Diviners would be greeted with: "May your eyes see further than beyond." The language was soft and melodious, with many 'l's and 'm's in it, and it was wonderful to listen to, like a song. There were however perhaps a few people who understood and could speak Caelian, and one of them, Tyananna was certain, was master Quallath.

They drank their drinks and exclaimed over the taste, continuously looking around the pub in search of new 'objects of study', as Lady Tarralyanna unblushingly said, who nagged Tyananna to explain everything to her. She was not weary of it, either, because in elaborating such simple, everyday things to them, she gained a new perspective of things.

At some point an old man came swaying in their direction and Tyananna and Tarralyanna stopped their discussion about the women's clothing and how horribly complicated it was. 'Slaves to aesthetics and urges for procreation,' Lady Tarralyanna said contemptuously.

The old man came round and greeted them in old Gotan, holding up his ale and grinning at them. He was obviously a master of some property, for his attire was neither shabby nor old, but he rather seemed to be very drunk. Tyananna held up a hand, grinning, and looked up at him.

"And what might we do for you, good sir?" she asked softly in Albinian.

"Why, I have seen strangers here and thought I might give you a welcome," he said.

'But what he really wants,' Tyananna told the other two mentally, 'is to chat. Because he is drunk and because he is a nosy old thing, bored with life, and is in constant search of something that might cheer it up a little, like strange faces in his favourite pub.' She felt Lady Tarralyanna's surprise, who leaned forward with interest.

"Thank you, sir," she said, smiling. "Why do you not sit down?"

The old man drew up a chair and glanced over all of them.

"You have lived here for a long time, sir?" Tyananna asked.

"All my life," said the old man, then nodding at Lord Tammutyen. "You owner of land, sir?"

"A patch down at the Eoth-Wynn, by the forest," Lord Tammutyen said in his deep voice. "This is my wife and my daughter."

"Ah!" exclaimed the old man, immediately ignoring Lady Tarralyanna, for he presumed she was the daughter and was thus not permitted to speak to strangers. Her eyes fixed on the man with what Tyananna called 'intellectual hunger'.

"Excellent land for sheep, superb," said the old man, puffing up his chest, apparently proud that he knew something about it. "I gather you have many?"

"Multiplying like rabbits," Lord Tammutyen said readily. He was not exactly good at this 'socialisation exercise', as the three Sith called it, but he was learning and he was trying very hard.

"But if you have lived here all your life," interjected Tyananna, before the man could start questioning Tammutyen about his sheep and his business, "you must know many funny stories, many anecdotes."

"My wife is very fond of them, you see," Lord Tammutyen elaborated.

Tyananna was thrilled – he was finally cottoning on to it!

"Stories?" echoed the man, propping himself against his knee and then bursting into laughter. "'sgrace, you are a strange lot! I know many!"

"Oh, let us hear them!" Tyananna said, clapping.

Tarralyanna was watching her with unhidden admiration under her hood.

"Well, there was this one time I went out in the garden to collect the pepper," said the old man, leaning a little forward. "Everyone else was on the fair and we needed the pepper. My daughter brought a rabbit from a fair and put it in a cage. It escaped and was now roaming the garden without either of us knowing. Now, I have never seen an alive rabbit, mind you. We city folk do not keep wild animals around here. But my daughter likes those small furry animals for some reason. Anyway, I was walking down the rows of carrots and wondering at the few missing their leaves; and there it was, pepper strewn all over them, and I said to myself: 'Is that not good? Now I can just collect it; the yesterday's wind has obviously done my work.' I collected the pepper and came back into the house. My wife thought it was rather large for pepper, but was very pleased to see it growing so fast. I decided to try it, as it really did look a little strange. Well, it was rabbit poop, as must have gathered and I spent one hour getting it out of my teeth."

Even Lord Tammutyen thought the story was funny and he laughed along the rest of them.

And now everything seemed to be going in the right direction. The old man looked flattered with the attention they were giving him and with their interest in his simple stories. Thus one story followed another and soon the innkeeper's wife was called again and asked to bring more drinks. She beamed at Tyananna in her passing, understanding that they were having great fun, being away from the Royal mansion and enjoying themselves like little children. The old man was so caught up with his story-telling and was so drunk that he never got around to ask them about their names or why they were wearing hoods.

At some point, Lady Tarralyanna reached out for her cigarette box, but Tyananna shouted into her mental ear, and her hand hovered over it, her brow furrowing. Luckily, the old man did not notice this, as Lord Tammutyen was just laughing his head off to his sheep joke.

'Daughters,' Tyananna thought, 'or children, that is, do not smoke.' Lady Tarralyanna nodded in understanding and leaned aback in her chair.

By the time they got to the third drink, they began feeling a little strange. Of course, the two Sith have never gotten drunk and they did not know the meaning of the word. But Tyananna, who sensed her vision was getting a little blurred and having gotten drunk on many occasions before, recognised the symptoms and quickly warned them about it. They pushed away their drinks at once.

"'Ere," slurred the old man, his head swinging forward. "Your ale too warm?"

"Actually," Lord Tammutyen said, knowing, as Tyananna taught him, that men had the first and the last word in the family, "We should get going. We need to ride tomorrow morning and it is getting very late."

"Oh, tha's a shame," muttered the old man. "Well, I've had a jolly evening with you, sir and ladies."

He extended his hand to Lord Tammutyen, who caught it without thinking. Luckily, he had already put on his gloves. The old man withdrew his hand with an exclamation of surprise.

"smercy!" he cried, staring at him. "You are like ice!"

"Cold glass, I suppose," Lord Tammutyen said without a flinch.

"Good night, then," Lord Tammutyen said.

They nodded at the innkeeper's wife in their passing, who was washing glasses. She beamed at them and nodded, seemingly very pleased about everything. They wanted to have fun in her pub, to see what the ordinary people did for fun and talk to them, and she had given them all of that. She was very pleased indeed. As soon as she they were gone, she ran through the curtain leading into the back room to tell her daughter who has just been sitting in her pub.

The three Sith came out on the street, laughing like children.

"Oh, I cannot believe we have just done this," Lady Tarralyanna said in Sith.

"Tarra, please," Tyananna said, looking around herself in alarm. "We are in the middle of the street! Speak Albinian!"

"Oh, yes, of course," said Tarralyanna. "This drink has made me very sleepy. Perhaps it is time to have coffee, yes?"

"Yes, please," Lord Tammutyen said, rubbing his head. "My head seems to be too large for my shoulders."

"Your head?" Lady Tarralyanna echoed, looking at him with her eyebrows in the air. "How about the rest of your body? Is it not large enough for your head?"

Lord Tammutyen growled as an answer and glowered at her.

"It no longer supports it," he said. "I feel very strange and I might be getting a headache. Must be all that laughing."

"Well, we shall find a place where we can get coffee, I hope," Tyananna said, glancing up and down the street.

People were walking past them without looking back, but their laughter attracted a bit of attention. Tyananna chose a coffee-shop on one of the City's squares and they went inside. In her passing she spotted a familiar face and she quickly pulled the two away, to a lone table in the corner. The general, the Chancellor and the Counsellor were sitting together. They were leaning forward and were obviously debating something heatedly.

"Reckon we should eavesdrop?" Tyananna asked.

They barely noticed their arrival, so immersed in their conversation they were, and their coffee pot stood cold and untouched in the middle of the table.

"They are not drinking their coffee," Lady Tarralyanna observed, casting one quick glance at them. "They are not smoking and they did not notice us, though we walked right past them. They must be talking about something very important."

"Eavesdropping," Lord Tammutyen growled. "Tyananna agrees. Tarra?" He looked at Lady Tarralyanna, who nodded. "You do it, then. You can be very subtle."

Lady Tarralyanna's eyes went glassy for a moment and Tyananna felt a hand of the Dark side extending in the direction of the three. Tyananna was slowly getting used to their voting whenever they were on their own and had to decide on something. It was rather refreshing, come to think of it.

"... has not said anything concerning it yet," the Chancellor said, absently spinning his cup.

"Do you reckon he will at all?" the general asked.

The both of them now looked at Mar-Taat-Moor, who drew a deep sigh before he spoke.

"I believe he will," he said. "Not because he cares so much about the people, but because he wants to avoid general panic. I do not think that there are so many who are so loyal to him that they would accept it at once and go to war for him. And on the other hand, if he says nothing and still proclaims war, he will have to give a reason to his people. I do not believe that any reason, except for the truth, would suffice."

"So how is everything with the army coming along?" the Chancellor asked, turning away from Mar and looking at the general. Now it was his turn to sigh.

"Not so good," he said, scratching himself on the back of his head, as though the mere mention of it was giving him a headache. "The alterations he ordered are so strange, so incomprehensible to me, that I cannot do anything else, but to follow his instructions to the letter and hope that I am doing it right, without understanding why he wants certain things the way he does. My soldiers are extremely confused and agitated about everything and I have already made myself quite unpopular. I keep telling them that it is the Lord's will, but they will not listen. They still believe it is some sort of whim of mine."

"Steady, steady, old dog," the Chancellor said consolingly, tapping him on the shoulder. "He will come out in the open. He has to do that soon, before he proclaims war. And your soldiers will then understand."

"What confuses me the most," the general went on, unable to stop himself, "is why he dismissed the cavalry completely? We have no archers; no horsemen; and instead, we have many small divisions, which are more concerned with tactics, rather than actual fighting."

"Interesting. Well, it is my presumption," Mar said, "that his allies would provide him with both cavalry and archers. He does not need them. He needs his army, the Gotan army, to be leaders, rather than fighters."

"Leaders?" the general echoed. He let out a nervous laugh which shook his belly. "You must be joking. Those fellows do not have the brains for it, nor do they know anything about tactics."

"They will have to learn," Mar said seriously. "It is very important to him, you see. To be able to control his allies, so that betrayal would be impossible."

The Chancellor whistled and looked back at the general, who was wearing a stupid expression for a moment, but then inclined his head, thinking about this. This, of course, changed everything. He did not think of that.

"By Maiden, you are right!" he exclaimed at last.

"Given, of course," Mar said, seemingly unaffected with his unspoken praise, "that your soldiers would be loyal. I cannot help myself not to think that there is something else he has in mind. A tool, which would force them to be loyal and obedient."

"It sounds like some torture contraption of his," the general said, shuddering. "I have already seen too many and too effective torture contraptions he made himself. Do you believe he would...?"

"No," Mar interrupted him. "I do not believe he would. But, one thing we have learned throughout the past few years. He has been hiding so much from us and so successfully, that I cannot say that anything would surprise me, coming from him."

"Yes!" Tammutyen exclaimed at this point, welcoming the maiden who brought their coffee pot and raised her eyebrows at his enthusiasm. "Coffee! Is it strong?"

He peered into the pot, sniffing eagerly. The maiden laughed.

"It is as I usually make it, sir, and every customer has always been pleased with it," she said. "But, if you are very fond of coffee and want it stronger, I can make stronger coffee for you."

"My head feels like a large pumpkin," he complained, rubbing it again. "Do you think your coffee can cure that?"

"Ah, in that case," the maiden beamed at him, "I shall make special coffee for you."

She went and Tyananna looked at Lady Tarralyanna, who obviously did not allow anything to ruin her concentration and was still listening at the conversation between the three.

"Why are we doing this?" the Chancellor sighed, pouring himself more cold coffee and barely noticing it was cold. "We will be responsible for a war the size of the Great War of the Second Age, if not worse. Why are we still supporting him?"

"Me?" the general asked grumpily. "I believe that anyone who does not support a Sith Lord as powerful as he is, must be a complete idiot. That is why. Better with him, than against him, I say."

"That is a valid point," the Chancellor said quietly and gravely.

"I do it," Mar said quietly, "because I have followed him all my life. And I do not know why, but I trust him. He might be merciless, terrible, and cruel. But he has always been my Lord and I will always follow him, no matter what. Even if it is against my judgement, against all my principles. I might not agree with the idea of the war and all he is doing, but I can understand that he needs to do it, and I will be there by his side throughout this crusade."

"I have learned, throughout the decades I spent with him," he went on, as though speaking to himself, but the two listened very carefully, "that he knows certain things we do not. He sees further than we can, than any Jedi can. Oh, yes, I am quite certain of it. You have not spent nights with him in his study, listening to his reasoning and discussing things with him. There were times I was outright afraid of him, of what he can do and of what he knows, of his vision on matters and his ability to review everything without any emotionality whatsoever. It might seem cruel to an ordinary man, a man who does not know him and who cannot appreciate the absence of emotions in logical reasoning. But to me, after all I have seen and experienced in life, that is power. Power, which I have learned to respect and admire, if not love. I cannot deny I am afraid; but I trust him, and I trust him with my life. However horrible this war might seem to us, I am quite certain that he knows what he is doing. And I wish to offer him all of the help that I can give him."

"Me, too," the general said quietly. "I am with you. I might be ignorant in these things and know little of these Force matters, but I know my job. I am the general of his army; and this is who I shall remain."

"I know _nothing_ of these matters," the Chancellor said, swallowing. "But I agree with the both of you. I might not have Mar's experience, but I can yield out of fear."

"And do you remember what he once said about that?" Mar asked almost nostalgically. "That he would instil fear in his foes and force them to dig their own graves and lie in them."

Tarralyanna withdrew and her eyes slowly travelled over the table. She saw Lord Tammutyen sipping the too-hot coffee with a pained, but satisfied look on his face, as the maiden brought him what she called 'coffee which would wake the dead', which he apparently found sufficiently strong and was now savouring it. Tyananna's glance never left Tarralyanna and she straightened up as soon as she noticed that the hand of the Dark side withdrew. In a quiet voice, Tarralyanna retold them what she heard.

"We must tell the Dark Lord about it," Lord Tammutyen said at once. "This was an unexpected treat; but I believe he would want to know."

"Agreed," Tyananna said.

"Agreed," Lady Tarralyanna said, nodding. "As soon as we see him."

"Given, of course, that he would not lash us for doing this," Tyananna said and shuddered.

Just as Lord Tammutyen proclaimed that the coffee was actually quite good, the three Sith, who were now discussing fear and its effect on the other people, the presence of the Dark Lord filled their minds, penetrating all of their thoughts and their mental processes. Tyananna was so startled that she fell off her chair, and remained lying on the floor, confused and beside herself.

'When you are done with your field work,' spoke the voice of the Dark Lord into their mental ears, 'come back to the Temple. I want to speak to the three of you.'

His presence vanished as quickly as it came, but it was there quite long enough for Mar to sense it. He turned around with a sudden jerk, his hair standing on its end, his hands trembling.

"What is it, for the love of Narywath?" the Chancellor asked, staring at him in alarm.

"The Lord," Mar gasped, ignoring the looks of the people around him, who now witnessed two strange reactions of two different people which occurred almost simultaneously. That might happen in a bar, under the influence of good, ripe ale. But not in a coffee-shop. "I felt his presence!"

The Chancellor was about to say that it was probably because they just talked about him, but then he remembered that Mar was Force-sensitive and he went white.

"Do you reckon he is looking for us, eavesdropping on us?" he asked in a mere whisper, as though he thought that that way the ruler of Gotan would not hear him.

Mar was about to say that he did not know, at what his glance paused on three figures heading for the door, wrapped in their cloaks up to their noses. They tossed over quite a bit of gold to the maiden behind the bar, who cheerfully waved at them and beamed at the content of her fist. The bulky figure of one of the three squeezed through the door and disappeared out of sight, but not before Mar recognised him.

The three exchanged glances and swallowed. They knew very well who they were and could now contemplate why the three students of their Lord have been hiding in the same coffee-shop they have been sitting in.


	44. Chapter 43 - Part Three

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XLIII – Interview with the Jedi

Tyananna wished for the hundredth she had a map of the Sith Temple. Luckily, there were only a few places she had to visit on a daily basis. The Sith Temple resembled a maze and it was very easy to get lost, since all corridors and doors looked exactly the same.

The wing where she had once been kept a prisoner was still under construction, as the Dark Lord apparently did not need it at the present moment. The slaves, Peetah and her husband slept beside the kitchens, which were somewhere on the ground floor, but Tyananna was uncertain where exactly. The Dark Lord's Tower was of course a complete mystery to Tyananna, as the only room she has ever been to was his study.

Today however the Dark Lord lead them purposefully in the direction of his Tower and entered a room which was situated right behind the statue of the Dark Lord of the Second Age.

The first thing Tyananna noticed was a very large map of the world, which stretched across the whole wall. Different parts of the continents were painted in either red, blue or yellow, and here and there Tyananna could see minute scribbles which she recognised as his handwriting. Judging by the stale air, stacks of paper which were everywhere and pipe ash, Tyananna concluded that the Dark Lord spent many nights here, planning the invasion.

Above the gigantic map hung the banner of the Dark side. The symbol painted on it referred to its power, Tyananna knew, because the same symbol was engraved on her medallion. "_The Dark side_," Tyananna remembered from the Sith Code, Book Five, "_has many faces. Some faces it shows to its faithful servants; some it shows to the curious and ignorant newcomers; and some it shows to its foes_."

There were two fireplaces in the room, which kept the room suitably warm. Candles burned in tall candlesticks, filling the space with warm, orange light. The three Sith seated themselves quietly behind the table and looked expectantly at the Dark Lord. He walked across the room to the map, quickly glanced over it and turned to face them.

"I am not cross with you for taking your little field trip," he said to their great relief. "Quite on the contrary. I am certain that you have benefited from it and have learned a lot. It was very insightful of you."

"I have been spending a lot of time in thought and planning," he went on, turning away from them.

"So I have not given you a chance to ask for permission, I am aware of that. But I am pleased to see that my teachings are well rooted in each of you and that you can differentiate between what is useful and what is not."

"Now," he said, drawing up a chair himself and sitting down, lighting up his pipe. "I shall share my plans with you. I shall share them with you and no one else, for you to know."

Feeling flattered, though they expected it, the Sith straightened up in their chairs, realising that the moment of revelation had come. They spent months and months in speculation and now it was finally over.

"The lands painted blue are the lands where I have allies," the Dark Lord started his narrative.

The three immediately looked at the map and tried to count them. It was impossible; but the number of the blue blotches was much smaller than the number of the red ones, they noted.

"The lands painted red are the countries where I have none and where I believe I will come across a considerable amount of resistance. The lands painted yellow are lands which should not offer a lot of resistance."

Tyananna noted that the Land of Salom was painted yellow and she could understand why. Those people only had to be attacked while they were having their lunch for one to catch them unprepared and immediately overrun the land, she thought with contempt. Just so.

"We shall start with the lands painted red on all Continents," the Dark Lord said, pointing at the map. "All four of them, that is. War must break out on each Continent simultaneously. Why? Because then there is little chance for anyone to leave the country and search for help. The Dark army shall be divided into divisions and each division shall travel to one of the four continents. We, of course, remain here, because this is where the Jedi are."

He got to his feet and walked over to the map of the third Continent, placing his whole palm over King Dankaar's Droddian Kingdom. There was something in this gesture that made Tyananna's every hair stand on end.

"Dankaar's Kingdom is exceedingly well situated for war fought on land, for infantry, that is. The land consists of deserts, arid valleys and wide areas of flat land. It is perfect for waging war on land.

King Dankaar built a number of forts across his Kingdom, which can crush an entire army with a well-aimed boulder volley. However, their forts, as Mongrap told me, have very low walls. There are no roofs, as there is little or no precipitation there. Thus an attack from the air be the logical approach. The maidens of Gehoor have given me their dragons and they shall be divided into battalions and will be ridden by one maiden and several archers, who shall spread death from above."

He paused. Dankaar's Kingdom was perhaps the largest part of the once enormous Droddian Kingdom, which split into several parts after the end of the Second War. Some Droddian nations left the Continent and settled down elsewhere, driven out by the famine which ravaged the Continent after the War.

"I have my allies there to ease my task, of course," the Dark Lord went on. "I have also included something I called 'the resistance factor' in my calculations. It signifies an estimate of the level of resistance my Armies shall encounter in that particular land. I needed that in order to optimise my resources and to be able to efficiently divide my Army into battalions. A logical approach."

He approached a stand in the corner, which until then stood in the shadows and ignited a few candles with a wave of his hand. Now the three Sith could see that something round and large was there, covered with a piece of black silk.

"I have not planned alone," the Dark Lord quietly said, passing with his hand over the black silk. "Oh, no. The Dark side was with me."

He pulled off the silk to reveal a black rayed with silver and white orb, which reminded the Sith of streaks of lightning.

Tyananna gasped. She had never seen anything like it and her first thought was that it was absolutely stunning. But Lady Tarralyanna had seen something similar, as she had a small orb in her meditation chamber herself, which was transparent, however, and much, much smaller than this one. She normally held it in her hands when she wanted to communicate with the Dark side. But this one... was simply enormous.

"The Divining orbs are not used only by Caelians, my apprentices," the Dark Lord said, throwing the piece of silk over the orb.

"The first Divining orb has been used by a Sith, as a matter of fact, who has found such a perfect piece, according to the legend, in the 'mouth of the Dark side'. It is impossible to know what he meant by that description. I believe it was either a cave or one of the volcanoes in the Land of Gnath. However, Horukaan looked a lot different in the Second Age, let along in the First Age."

In the First Age, there was only one continent, Tarralyanna remembered from an ancient Sith scripture. The ocean covered the rest of the world. The Sith Lord who lived at that time had no scriptures or books to guide him and tell him how certain phenomena he encountered were called, and so he used long, poetic descriptions to describe them. According to him, at the time there was only one moon revolving around the planet, which he called Bo'Teh, which name could be translated as 'Shadower'. The reason why the Sith Lord gave the moon that particular name was because of its size. Lady Tarralyanna could only speculate how big this moon was, but according to his descriptions, the nights were not as dark when the moon rose and so she had to conclude that its size was indeed considerable.

Lady Tarralyanna found his poetic and vague manner of writing extremely annoying and it was driving her logical, precise mind mad. She tried to make the best out of it, realising that the Sith Lord lived in isolation and had no books to guide him, as she had.

"I have been consulting my Master very often," the Dark Lord said quietly, sitting down again. "My plan is a meld of suggestions of all discarnate Sith and my own ideas. We discussed everything and in the end we came up with a master plan."

He gave a deep sigh and the three Sith felt a little guilty. They were roaming around the City and enjoying themselves while their Master was spending nights here, working. But even if they wanted to, they could not have helped him. The Dark Lord looked exhausted and his pale face was almost as pale as Lord Tammutyen's. Tyananna had never seen him look so tired and it made her wonder when was the last time he slept.

"But, now it is complete," he said with an air of satisfaction. "We shall discuss my plan, part by part, until I am certain you understand every single detail. In that way I can be certain that you understand it and that you could act in my stead, should things take an unexpected turn."

Was he saying what they thought he was saying? They stared at him in horror. Has the Dark Lord... foreseen his own death in some way?

"You must understand, my apprentices," he said firmly, "that the Will of Darkness is to rule to world. Nothing may come in its way, not even your own doubts or fears. You must put all that aside and fulfil its will. Do you understand me?"

The three nodded without a word, but Tyananna felt like her heart was breaking. Surely nothing could happen to him, to the Dark Lord? He was just testing them, that is all. But the truth was, she felt a shadow of doubt and a feeling of dark foreboding pervaded her.

"In two weeks," continued the Dark Lord, "I will command my troops to go to war and take their positions. Then you will ride with me to take our first stand and march in the name of Darkness."

He glanced over them, over their deadly serious faces and his glance paused on Tyananna, who was staring at him with her eyes wide. His expression softened somewhat.

"This is what you have been preparing yourselves for all your lives," he said. "This is your opportunity to become immortal. We shall write pages in the history of this world; and we shall continue to live long after we leave our bodies behind. You do not fear your own death; but you should likewise not fear the death of anyone else. In the Dark side, we are all immortal."

They were left to ponder the meaning of his words as the Dark Lord took a pile of papers and plunged into a long monologue about his plans for the First Continent, beginning to unravel his intentions, and the three listened attentively, memorising everything he said. Tyananna had to force herself to do that, even though his last words rang in her mind and she could not find any peace. Was it a test? Or was he really foretelling his own death? Tyananna was certain it was something she would not be able to cope with. She would not be able to see him die and live the rest of her life without him. However, Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna listened with serious expressions and nothing suggested they were worried about it. It was impossible that they did not care, Tyananna was certain.

The Dark Lord was just explaining his first backup plan (there were actually three backup plans, they were told) at what his eyes swivelled toward the door and narrowed.

"We have a visitor," he said quietly, swiftly getting to his feet.

Tyananna smiled as he stood up so quickly. She did notice he had been recuperating while he was sitting and explaining his plans to them. All the while she could feel the Dark side swirling around him, his aura spinning faster and faster, accompanied by the strange tinkling noise which was only audible to her Force ears. Nothing suggested he was doing anything at all and it seemed to be a natural process. Tyananna could use the Dark side to give her more strength when she needed it, but she had to sit down and concentrate hard on it and even then it helped only partially. However, the Dark Lord seemed to be adept at drawing strength from the Dark side and 'regenerating' even though he had to concentrate on what he was saying.

"Ah," he said, his lips now forming a small smile. "It is our good Chancellor. He is right at the gate and if I am not mistaken, judging by his troubled and erratic thoughts, he has news for us. Come, my apprentices, let us greet him."

He strode toward the door and the three sprang to their feet. As they walked down the narrow corridor leading back toward the Heart of the Temple, Lady Tarralyanna put an arm around Tyananna's shoulders and brought her head closer to hers.

"You know that you and I have the ability to receive visions from the Force, do you not?" she asked in a whisper.

Tyananna nodded. Yes; she used to have visions about her and Tarralyanna used to have visions about Tyananna. But they stopped as soon as the two met and Tyananna never had another vision again. Or so she thought.

"Well, Master gave me a Divining orb a long time ago," Lady Tarralyanna whispered on, for some reason mysteriously smiling. "The Dark side showed me something. It has been so long since I had a vision. But when they occur, I cannot doubt their validity. They are as spontaneous as a dream; and yet as vivid as life as we know it. I have seen a throne; the Dark Lord was sitting on it, wearing a crown of tendoziil and jewel. He got up and came out of the shadows. He was standing on a balcony. There were thousands of people, perhaps millions, kneeling on the ground under the balcony. The three of us stood in the shadows, behind his throne, watching him. As he beckoned to us, we approached him from behind. We were wearing crowns as well and the most beautiful robes you can imagine."

Tyananna paused and stared at her. Why did all of this sound so familiar? She had seen this somewhere. In a dream? Every detail was exactly the same – everything down to the Dark Lord's crown.

"He was an Emperor and he was greeting his citizens. The banner of the Dark side hung over his throne and the world was at his feet," Lady Tarralyanna triumphantly finished her whispered narrative, by the end of which they almost arrived to the entrance hall of the Temple.

Tyananna opened her mouth to say that she saw the exact same thing, but she stopped as there was a shout from the tall iron gate. The Chancellor stood behind it, holding his horse and looking extremely relieved to see the Lord of Gotan walking toward him, his black cloak billowing in the wind.

Once again he faced the problem of not being able to enter the Sith Temple and yet wishing to speak to the King, but once again the problem resolved on its own. But then again, he remembered Mar's words, the Dark Lord could probably sense anyone coming up to the Temple. This solves everything, he thought happily, sinking into a low bow as the King of Gotan halted sheer before the gate.

"My Lord, two Jedi are here!" he stuttered out quickly.

The three Sith exchanged glances and Lord Tammutyen's pale face illuminated with an excited, almost fanatical smile.

"They wish to speak to you!"

"Calm down, Ferrighan," the Dark Lord said in a deep, soothing voice. "We have expected something of the sort."

"You... have?" the Chancellor asked, staring at him.

"Oh, yes," the Dark Lord answered, looking quite unperturbed. "It is all right. You tell them that I am on my way."

"Very good, my Lord," the Chancellor said, relieved.

His glance paused on the three Sith as he mounted his horse. He wondered whether they have already reported to the Dark Lord what they heard in the coffee-shop? He was certain that they already have.

"Jedi," the Dark Lord echoed once the Chancellor disappeared out of sight.

He turned to the three Sith, who were staring at him in expectation. What was he going to do? For a moment he looked thoughtful, but then his thin, cruel mouth stretched into an evil grin.

"Your best robes and royal insignia," he said commandingly, suddenly turning and striding back toward the Temple. "Lord Tammutyen, do something about your skin. We will meet at the Court. We must give the good Jedi a proper welcome! And it is about time we had a little fun."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

The two Jedi, who arrived at the Kingdom of Gotan, the Kingdom of snow and ice, sat beside one of the large fireplaces in a spacious hall in the Court, waiting for the King.

As soon as they crossed the Gotan border, a dozen soldiers intercepted them and asked why they were in Gotan and what they wanted. When they said they wanted to see the King and speak to him, they accompanied them all the way to the capital City, not letting them out of their sight for one single moment. The Jedi knew that the King of Gotan was an eccentric, cruel man, and that his Kingdom was well protected. But they wondered whether he was suspicious toward any newcomer or just toward the Jedi?

The capital City surprised them. They rather expected narrow streets, people wearing fur and goats and sheep wherever one looked. In other words, they expected to see a mountain village, but instead they walked into a spotlessly clean town where everyone seemed to know what to do. However, they did notice that the people seemed to be in a hurry. They did not see anyone standing and talking on the street. The Jedi knew that the Gotan laws were harsh and that death penalties were only too common. On their way up to the Court they saw patrols which moved in packs, ready to catch anyone foolish enough to even try to break the law. But as they noted that the two Jedi already had escort, they left them alone.

The streets were being swept clean by the Malaskian slaves and weed, which got stuck in the gully grates (they were surprised to see them all over the City), was being plucked out and thrown into the wheelbarrows. As the Jedi rode past them, the slaves stopped doing what they were doing and gaped at them. Slavery was of course legal in Gotan; the Jedi Order knew about it and never approved of it, but it never really tried to do anything about it. The Jedi master and his apprentice glanced over those poor, dirty people wearing rags with sympathy. However, the slaves quickly looked away and got back to their work, probably fearing the lash of whoever owned them.

The Gotan houses were large and spacious, the Jedi observed, and they were something quite different than what they expected to see. But they were also ridiculously clean and neat. Every little plant before the entrance was on its place and every shop sign was carefully scrubbed clean. When they arrived at the Court and were led inside by the soldiers, they realised that the capital City was nothing compared to the Royal Court.

The Court seemed very well organised and atop of that it seemed as though the King was rather fond of the Droddian culture, since the whole Court was built and decorated in Droddian fashion. The servants of the Court seemed very busy that day. The Jedi master saw a young man carrying a pile of papers which was so high his head was barely visible behind it, who walked right past them and then disappeared down one of the numerous corridors illuminated by torches. The Malaskian slaves, who looked cleaner and healthier than the ones they had seen in the streets, were scrubbing one of the corridors leading right. Three soldiers marched right past them, who seemed to be in an awful hurry, greeting the ones who led the Jedi and glancing with interest over them. Two fellows who looked like scholars stood in one of the corridors, engaged in a heated discussion involving some measurements concerning a certain bridge, one holding a large ruler and a compass in his hands, along with a few long scrolls.

But on the whole the Jedi had to agree that despite of the neatness, organisation and apparent perfect order the people seemed scared of something and they knew it had something to do with the King. They had never seen him, never met him, and only heard stories about him, about his cruelty and eccentricity. But now they would meet him at last and see this tyrant in flesh.

They were greeted by a short, plump man in the courtyard, who glanced over them when presented by the soldiers.

"You did the right thing," he told the soldiers. "You may go now."

The soldiers departed, looking very pleased with themselves, and the two Jedi were left alone with the bearded man, who was glancing over them in a scrutinising fashion they found rather impertinent.

"I am General Korrugen," said the bearded man, straightening up. "We have never had Jedi in the Kingdom of Gotan. You asked to see my Lord?"

"The King of Gotan, yes," answered the Jedi master.

The way he spoke about the King was ridiculously formal and stiff. But then again, he was probably dead scared of him like the rest of his Kingdom. For one, the Jedi master could not wait to see this man who breathed fear into every living thing in his Kingdom.

"Very well," said the general, turning around with a sigh. "I shall send someone to the Palace and see if he has the time to meet you. In the meantime, you shall wait in the hall."

"He does not live in the Court, general?" the Jedi master asked in surprise, following him.

"Of course not," the general answered with a snort, now striding down a wide corridor, his sword clanking as he walked.

He was leading them away from the courtyard which looked just as neat and well-kept as the rest of the Royal Court. For a moment the young Jedi's glance paused on a magnificent fountain in the middle of the courtyard, with the statue of a beautiful maiden carrying a bird on her palm, which was spitting water. It was the Maiden of Gotan, of course, a motive seen everywhere in the Kingdom. According to the legend, the maiden of Gotan was a young lady who put a stop on civil wars which were tearing the Kingdom apart. She was celebrated as a hero and as a martyr all across the Kingdom of Gotan.

But why was the general carrying weapons while at the Court, the Jedi master wondered? Perhaps it was Gotan tradition? It would be Droddian tradition all right – but not Albinian. However, judging by the weaponry displayed in the rest of the Court, or what they had seen of it, it would seem that the Droddian obsession with weaponry had made its way into the Royal Court of the Kingdom of Gotan as well.

"He lives in a palace above the City," said the general, opening a tall double door which led into a spacious hall. "My Lord mostly keeps to himself, I am certain you know, Jedi as you are. I shall remain here with you, until we have word from the Palace."

The Jedi thought it was very strange for a ruler of a country to live on a place away from his capital City. His servants seemed to be reluctant to disturb him, judging by the anxious expression of the Chancellor when the General asked him to ride to the Palace and speak to the King.

They sat down at one of the large tables and were brought drink and food by a few Malaskian slaves. The hall was poorly illuminated and they could barely make out the crest of Gotan on their goblets. It was very warm in the hall and it occurred to them that the people of Gotan perhaps yearned for warmth, in a land which was always so cold, always covered in snow and ice, and tended to overdo their heating. There were certainly many fireplaces all over the Court and torches burned everywhere.

It was gloomy and quiet, they thought as they glanced over the single table which occupied one side of the hall. It must be the King's table, the Jedi master thought. A large banner of Gotan hung on the wall behind it. The King's table was however set for four. The Jedi were not aware of the fact he had a wife and children. Perhaps he married?

"Do you usually eat here with the King?" asked the Jedi master, turning around to look at the general, who was thoughtfully drinking wine and staring at the King's table.

"Oh, yes," the general answered, putting the goblet down. "But the Lord does not dine with us very often."

"How so?" the Jedi master asked.

"He has more important matters to attend to," the general said unhelpfully.

The Jedi wondered what those more important matters might be, in which moment they heard a heavy pace and the Chancellor peeked inside.

"I have spoken to him, Korrugen," he said breathlessly. "And he said he would see the Jedi. However, you will need to wait."

He directed the last sentence at the two Jedi, who never really thought there was a possibility that the King would not receive them, for even the Droddians agreed to speak to them. But now they felt relieved. They had not come in vain, after all.

The Jedi fell into a whispered conversation while the general first pretended to be busy with his boots and afterwards ignited a pipe to appear busy and thoughtful. However, the whole time he was trying to hear what they were talking about. They were going over some meetings they had with other rulers during the past few weeks. It seemed that they did not ride to Gotan directly, but were rather doing a sort of a round-trip around the Continent and were speaking to all rulers and kings.

After what seemed like an hour, the double door finally opened and someone stepped inside. The general sprang to his feet and bowed his head. The Jedi did the same, though they were beside themselves with curiosity. However, soon it became apparent that the King was not alone, because they heard more footsteps following him inside.

"So," a deep voice said. "You are the Jedi who desired to speak to the King? You may sit down."

The Jedi sat down and looked up. Three people sat at the King's table, staring down at the Jedi with expressions of great interest. All three of them wore hoods. It seemed to be a tradition for the Royal family, the Jedi thought. They have encountered many strange traditions and customs during their travels and nothing could really surprise them anymore. Two of them were female, one of whom wore a circlet over her forehead. It seemed that she was the daughter of the King, the Princess of Gotan. The other young woman seemed to be her younger sister, but the Jedi could not see her face well. The third person was a broad-shouldered, young man. He was built like a warrior, what even his voluminous robes could not hide. He was wearing a circlet as well and the engravings and the jewels which covered the length of the circlet were very impressive. But Gotan was of course famous for its jewellers.

The figure which was standing right in front of them was obviously the infamous ruler. He was wearing a golden circlet, which served as a striking contrast to his jet black hair, which the ruler wore in a long plait. His dark eyes were fixed upon the two Jedi. The Jedi rather expected the King to wear something more impressive, but he seemed to have a rather simple taste for clothes, because he was wearing the exact same thing his three children did. The only difference seemed to be the large pendant with the crest of Gotan which hung around his neck.

But not even the colour of his hair, which suggested Droddian blood, surprised the Jedi more than the fact that he was very young.

They expected a grumpy old man, who lashed out at everything and everyone who displeased him. That was the picture of him they formed according to the rumours, anyway. But this man looked as though he was not older than thirty and he more looked like the King's eldest son than anything else. Perhaps there was something they did not know? Perhaps his son had succeeded him in the meantime? Either way, they must show him respect and try not to ask at once and directly, not to offend him, though the Jedi master felt he had to ask, sooner or later.

"It was very good of you to meet us, Your Majesty," the Jedi master said, looking up at the young man before him.

The Prince clapped his hands loudly and a few Malaskian servants trooped in, carrying drink on trays. The King's children – were they his children? Now the Jedi did not know what to think – did not take their hoods off even as they brought the goblets to their lips and the Jedi were now certain it was just Gotan tradition.

Meanwhile the King nodded sharply at the Jedi, ascended the few stairs which led up to the lone table and sat down, fixing his glance at the Jedi.

"We know that the Jedi have never been to your Kingdom," the Jedi master went on, unable to tear his glance off him.

His face! His noble features were almost flawless. He radiated arrogance and cruelty, but they expected something far, far worse. Again, this convinced them that he must be the eldest son, who had succeeded to the throne and was now following in his father's footsteps. But the Jedi master thought he had never seen such a handsome man before.

"But there is a grave matter we need to discuss with you, as it might concern you, your Kingdom, and your people," the Jedi master said.

The Jedi master watched his face carefully for a sign that he was hiding something, because something struck him as very odd. The Force simply passed through him, as though he was not there. Now he tried the same with his family. The same, he concluded. It seemed as though they were simply not there. Oh, the Force could see them all right, but not in the sense that he could sense their emotions or use the Force on them. The Force perceived them as beings, just as it perceived animals. It could be the Droddian blood, he thought, for Droddians were rather faint to the eyes of the Force. But this made him very, very cautious. It could be that the mysterious Sith was hiding here somewhere, using the Dark side to make it impossible for him to detect anything, and thus guess that the King and his family might be lying, or hiding her. It was the first time since he left the Temple that he ran across something strange and he sat up.

"You have my attention," the King said, picking up his goblet.

For some reason the general seemed to be very, very nervous, and he kept wiping his brow with his sleeve. Perhaps he felt that the King would punish him for disturbing him in whatever he was doing in his Palace.

"Well, we had an intrusion in our Temple perhaps a month ago," the Jedi master said, still probing around with the Force while he spoke and noting that this was indeed very strange, because the state of matters did not change.

He directed a warning glance at his apprentice, who quickly caught the cue and swept the hall with her senses, trying to detect anyone in close proximity who might fit the description of the Sith. But apart from a few Malaskian slaves, who were obviously waiting for orders, there was no one. The corridor outside felt as empty and as quiet as it was when they first came here.

"And thus we are looking for this person everywhere," the master said.

"You had something stolen?" the King asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Why have you not caught this person?"

"Not stolen, no, Your Majesty," the master said, shaking his head and looking at his feet. The King reacted exactly as he thought he would. "It was a Sith, you see. We are sure of it."

"A Sith?" the King echoed, exchanging a glance with the members of his family, who seemed to find this very interesting, rather than frightening, and started whispering to each other.

But for members of a family which approved of harsh punishments, public executions and which demanded of every member of the family to wear hoods and conceal their body (which was obviously the purpose of such wide garments), the lack of emotional reaction to the news was understandable. The children of the King grew up surrounded with cruelty and they probably watched all the public executions. It was understandable that they grew a thick skin when it came to danger and bloodshed and considered it as something natural. But now it occurred to the Jedi master that they were all wearing black. This ascertained him that they were mourning over the loss of someone. So the old King of Gotan indeed died of late, he concluded.

"We did not expect you to know about the Jedi legends, Your Majesty," the Jedi master said patiently.

Of course the King had no idea what he was talking about and merely thought that someone smart had stolen something valuable from the Jedi Temple and that the Jedi were now trying to find him and retrieve their possessions.

"But I am certain that you remember the legend of the Sith Lord of the Second Age," he said, carefully watching the King's face. "He was a Sith, too, meaning, a user of the other side of the Force, which is called the Dark side."

"I see," the King said slowly, putting down his goblet.

This new bit of information did not seem to perturb him the least, though the Jedi were certain he knew all about the legend about the Sith Lord. He had to – it was a story passed on from father to son for generations all across the world.

"Well, I have never had Jedi in my Kingdom, like I said," he said, giving the Jedi a small smile, to their relief, because they believed it meant he was ready for cooperation. "And you are welcome to search for this person wherever you like, as long as your search does not impede the normal functioning of my Kingdom. I cannot see, however, how this little problem of yours could affect my people."

"If this person is a Sith, then the whole world is in danger," the Jedi master said, slightly surprised with the King's ignorance and lack of fear. "If we do not catch the Sith soon, in no time we will have another war on our hands. Surely you can understand _that_, Your Majesty."

"Correct me if I am wrong," the King said, straightening up. The corners of his lips stretched into a very ugly smile. "But there are dozens of Jedi living in the Jedi Temple, am I correct?"

"Over two hundred, Your Majesty," the Jedi master said quickly, not realising that he was sharing confidential information with the King.

Of course the Dark Lord only wanted to find out just how many Jedi they would be dealing with and Tyananna had to smile to herself. They are so naive, she thought. Was I once that naive? Probably, she answered her own question.

"Really? That many?" the King asked, again lifting an eyebrow. "Well, this proves my point. You say this one Sith broke into your Temple. You say there are over two hundred Jedi living in it. How come two hundred Jedi cannot catch one person?"

The Jedi master flushed and his lip trembled. A little further away, the general let out a strange sound, which he managed to turn into a cough, right as the King inconspicuously lifted a hand in his direction.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," the Jedi master said, trying to be patient.

Now he was certain that he was speaking to the late King's son, who inherited his father's sarcasm and his idea of having fun which entailed laughing at people.

"But it is not so easy to catch a Sith, Your Majesty," the Jedi master said gravely. "They are used to operating in secret; and the Dark side gives them abilities and powers we cannot predict, for we do not know enough about them."

"He could not have turned into a rat and disappeared in the sewers, could he?" the King asked.

The Prince and the two other children chuckled to his joke. They seemed to be having great fun, the Jedi thought grumpily. Clearly the hardest thing was not to manage to speak to the King, but to make him see reason.

"I presume he is human?" inquired the King further. "Do you know?"

"We believe so, Your Majesty," the Jedi said. "It is a she, actually."

"A she?" the King echoed.

He laughed and his laughter echoed the hall.

"Are you telling me that a woman, Sith or not, outwitted the whole two hundred Jedi?" the King asked, still laughing. "I cannot believe my ears."

The Prince, Princess and the second daughter were all laughing, too, obviously appreciating the joke, and muttering to each other as the King once again turned to, now angry, Jedi master, who was trying to remain calm with utmost effort. The King was speaking perfectly friendly to him and did not try to offend him in any way. He was simply seeing the amusing side of the story and the Jedi's reaction was speaking clearly about how much they resented themselves for letting the Sith slip through their fingers.

"Catching her is our task, Your Majesty," the Jedi master said, deciding to put an end to this discussion, as it was obviously leading nowhere. The King simply used it as a chance to have a laugh. "So, you will give us your permission to search for the Sith in your Kingdom?"

"I have already said so," the King said, still chuckling to himself.

"We know that your soldiers patrol the Kingdom, Your Majesty," the Jedi master continued. "Is it true? They could perhaps have something to tell us as well, if they travel to all parts of your Kingdom."

"They might," the King said slowly, though the Jedi master noticed his tone changed.

It was the turning point, the three Sith were certain. The expression on the Dark Lord's face remained the same and yet the three Sith knew that the time of pretence was gone.

"If you think that will help you, that is," the King added, getting to his feet and upon the first glance thoughtfully walking across the hall. He halted by the curtains and stared at them with his hands on his back. Something was happening, now even the Jedi could feel it. They felt a threat they could not identify, but the Force was telling them to be on their guard. They stared at him as he smiled and turned to face them. There was something in his eyes they did not like and their hands carefully and, they hoped, inconspicuously, slid down to the hilts of their Jalá swords.

"But it is too late," the King said quietly.

The three Sith bated their breaths, ready to throw themselves at the Jedi.

"You will never catch her."

The King made a quick movement and the Force screamed in the Jedi's ears, but it was too late. It died away and then there was nothing, numbness, complete emptiness. The Force was gone and before they knew it, there were black shackles around their wrists which were so tight they could not move their hands at all. They stared at the King wearing expressions of complete panic, who was now openly grinning at them.

"The Force will not answer you, try as you might," he said calmly, now retracing his steps across the hall and approaching them.

The Jedi gaped at the King. He no longer felt like an arrogant young rascal whose idea of fun was to make laughing stock out of people. There was something positively blood-chilling about the way he was looking at them and his dark eyes suddenly seemed like two bottomless, swirling abysses of rage. They could not warp their minds around what just happened and what these horrible shackles were.

In the meantime the general had leapt to his feet, along with the three Sith, and was now clutching his sword and staring at the King, awaiting orders.

"That will do, Korrugen," the King said placidly. "You may leave now."

"But..." the general stuttered, now understanding that he wished to keep the prisoners.

He had just seen the most amazing capture he had ever witnessed in his life. In fact, he barely saw anything at all until everything was over. It all happened so quickly!

"I can handle two Jedi just fine, Korrugen," the King said a little more sharply. "But thank you for your concern."

Korrugen straightened up and bowed to the King, not wishing to insult him by insisting on staying.

"Very well, my Lord," he said curtly, leaving the hall.

Speechless and numb with shock, the two Jedi could not get say a word, but now the Jedi master seemed to regain the control over his voice.

"What is the meaning of this?" he shouted, lifting his hands to indicate the shackles around his wrists.

He knew that there was no point in trying to run for the door, for as startling as it was to find the shackles suddenly coiled around his wrists, it was nothing compared to the shock of reaching out for the Force, only to conclude that it was simply not there.

"A pretty little prize we have, my apprentices," the Dark Lord said as though he did not hear him, chuckling.

He turned and beckoned the three forward.

"Come, come, and take a better look. They are not young and they are certainly not very pretty, but I suppose that in these hard times we should satisfy ourselves with whatever comes our way. However, not for long."

Laughing, the three Sith descended the stairs and grouped behind their Master, beaming and leaning forward to take a better look at the two Jedi, behaving as though they were appraising horses on a fair. The Dark Lord glanced over the Jedi and crossed his hands on his chest, leaning aback as though to be able to see better.

"What do you think, Lord Tammutyen?" he asked the broad-shouldered figure of the Prince, who now came to stand a little behind him.

"There are four of us, my Master," answered the Sith, his eyes twinkling madly upon the sight of Jedi, who could not make heads or tails of all this. "And only two of them. How will you distribute them among us?"

"Each should be cut in half, of course," said the Dark Lord with a straight, serious face.

The four of them burst into laughter which echoed the hall and reached the general's ears, who was at that moment shuffling along the corridor, heading away from the hall. He shook his head, and, muttering to himself, proceeded toward the courtyard, intending to search for the Chancellor to tell him what happened. The ruler of Gotan was having a grand time, by the sound of it. He of course did not doubt that his Lord could handle the two Jedi – he was so much more powerful than both of them and he caught them as easily as one catches flies which are ignorant and stupid enough to land on someone's dinner.

"We have not been entirely honest with you, I am afraid," the Dark Lord said, still looking down at the two Jedi, but now making an aside pace as to allow them to see the three standing behind him.

The Jedi master gasped as he recognised one of the people someone standing there, whose face he mistook for that of a child, because until now it had been hidden in the shadows.

"Surely you understand it was necessary. However, I have had a very pleasant chat with you, I must say," the Dark Lord went on.

"So, you are not the King of Gotan, I presume?" the Jedi master asked in a trembling voice.

"Oh, but I am," the Dark Lord answered, straightening up, an intimidating tall figure in black robes. "Have been, for more than thirty years now."

"But..." the Jedi started, staring at him.

A cold wave of horror splashed over him as he realised that it was virtually impossible. He could accept the existence of the Dark side; but if what the King was saying was true, then he had to be at least three times as old as he was. And yet...

"Like I said, we have not been entirely honest with you," the Dark Lord went on. "But, you see, without our little show we could not have had you here, now could we? We get so little amusement these days – sad to what entertainment these days has come down to, do you not think so?"

Tyananna could not fail to notice that he kept using the word 'we' all the time. She felt pride blossoming within her and straightened up to her full height. She remembered this Jedi master, of course; and she was certain he remembered her. He used to be her teacher when she was young, as little Padawans were usually taught in groups in the beginning.

"Thus proper introductions are in order, I daresay," the Dark Lord said. "I am the King of Gotan and the Dark Lord of the Sith. These are my apprentices. Lady Tarralyanna, Lord Tammutyen and Tyananna. I would have come alone to meet you, but they begged me to take them with me. They wanted to see the Jedi."

"That... you..." the Jedi master stuttered. He cleared his throat, deciding to deal with the familiar face among the Sith later. "_You_ are the Sith Lord?"

"Yes," the Dark Lord answered simply, now drawing up a chair and sitting down, showing to the three that they were welcome to do so as well.

Tyananna sat down and looked aside at Lord Tammutyen. He was impossible. He was staring at the Jedi as one stared at a piece of roasted meat, his eyes round and gleaming like the river crystals he used for the wooden figurine of a horse he made for her. He was constantly licking his lips and glancing over them with obvious hunger which was quite amusing to watch.

"The Sith you have seen is my apprentice," the Dark Lord said, waving a careless hand.

His goblet zoomed into his outstretched hand. The Jedi master stared at him. He was using the Force just like he did.

"Tyananna has been to the Jedi Temple, eavesdropped on you as she had been ordered to, and then told me everything she saw and heard. You must have been very disappointed when she escaped."

"But she is dead!" the Jedi master whispered, staring at her.

"I have spared her life," the Dark Lord said, obviously enjoying this discussion, though it was quite unnecessary, from a practical point of view. "I have seen great potential in her and accepted her as my apprentice. Needless to say that she has learned a lot while she was away, as you must have noticed. Either the teachings of the Jedi have worsened over the centuries, or they have never been that good, but I must say that you have not trained her well. But, be it as it way, under my guidance she has developed into what you have seen at your Jedi Temple. So. One Sith beat you all! That I find very amusing."

"But now, my apprentice," he said, now looking at Tyananna, who lifted her glance, "you have the chance to speak to these two Jedi without pretence, as you are. Do you wish to ask them something? Lord Tammutyen will be more than happy to help you to persuade them to speak."

The Sith knight rubbed his enormous palms together, licking his lips. Lady Tarralyanna chuckled and shook her head.

Tyananna looked at her former childhood teacher. There might have been a time she would have had something to tell him, to lash out at him, to ridicule him. But now, there was nothing. She felt nothing when she looked at him. However, the Jedi master was staring back at her with hundred of questions in his eyes, his glance softening upon the sight of his former student, now remembering her as a child who was impressed with everything that had something to do with the Jedi Order. He was trying to find a flicker of something familiar in her eyes, something that he could appeal to, but there was nothing. The only vague familiarity and the main reason how he recognised her, were her features, but they changed as well.

"No, my Master," Tyananna answered in a clear voice, not taking her glance off the Jedi. "I have nothing to say to them."

"Very well," the Dark Lord said, nodding. "Now, the question is – what shall we do with them?"

There was a sigh of yearning coming from the direction of Lord Tammutyen, whose was now staring at the Jedi more hungrily than ever.

"Yes, Tammutyen," the Dark Lord said with a smile directed at him. "You can have one. But only when I am finished with them."

"We shall take them to the Temple with us," the Dark Lord said. "Lady Tarralyanna, their swords, please."

The slender woman sprang to her feet, squeezed past the Dark Lord with her head bowed and reached out for the Jedi master's sword. As she lifted her glance to look at him, he gasped. She was not human. He had never seen anything like it. She looked like a cross between a Caelian and an infernal beast. Next she grabbed hold of his apprentice's sword, carefully holding the two swords by the hilts and avoiding touching the blades. She returned to her place and Tyananna leaned forward to examine the swords. Lord Tammutyen, however, was staring at them without interest. The only thing that was on his mind were the Jedi and he was already actively planning what to do with the one the Dark Lord planned to give to him.

"You will never get away with this, you know," the Jedi master croaked as he felt himself being lifted in the air. "As soon as the Order notices we are missing, the Jedi masters will look for us."

"It will matter very little," the Dark Lord said, smiling unpleasantly and bringing himself into the Jedi master's face. "For by the time they figure out what should be done, have their councils and all that, war shall knock on the door of your Temple. I shall crush your little Jedi Temple and all that lives in it."

With that last statement, which made the Jedi's insides go icy cold, he turned around, pointing at the two Jedi and heading for the door. As the broad-shouldered Sith grabbed him, the Jedi master closed his eyes. They found the Sith, all right. Now he wished they never had.


	45. Chapter 44 - Part Three

Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

guest review: thanks! I suppose it's because Threat from the Deep is a fantasy story. But I felt I needed this setting to be able to write about Sith philosophy. Which is basically what this is all about. :)

This chapter marks the end of Part Three. The last part of the book focuses on the war and the adventures the Sith are going to have while travelling.

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XLIV – Line of Kings

Two naked Sith were relaxing in the Water Garden, sitting in the little cave and enjoying the warmth, leaning against the warm stone walls and going over their morning training. If they thought that the eve of war would be enough to make their Master go easy on them, they were very wrong.

/Flashback

Lady Tarralyanna was doing an exercise which involved her standing between round plates which were placed at different heights, and was using either her fists or legs to hit or kick them, according to the rule 'the more, the better' in a shorter time period. Lord Tammutyen was climbing the long rope using both his hands and legs as fast as he could, which exercise made him look like a caterpillar from Tyananna's point of view. She, on the other hand, stood scoffing with her feet beside the door, getting ready for another round of obstacle-running. The Dark Lord placed hurdles of different heights and sizes around the perimeter of the hall, and Tyananna's task was to jump over all over them and arrive at the starting point as quickly as she could.

"Now, remember," the Dark Lord said, standing in the middle and holding the hourglass in his hands, "lift the knee of your other leg as high as possible and then bring it quickly down on the ground. Ready?"

"Ready, Master," she replied.

Lord Tammutyen the caterpillar had just arrived at the top, where he sat down on the little wooden platform with a sigh. He straightened up and looked at her. She bowed her head and leaned forward, waiting for the Dark Lord's signal. Tammutyen smiled. The Dark Lord shouted – and she bolted.

Both Lady Tarralyanna, who was now resting, and Lord Tammutyen now had the chance to see what she was doing. Lady Tarralyanna winced as she noticed that Tyananna had just passed with her leg too low over the wooden hurdle and that she was probably bleeding.

"Higher," shouted the Dark Lord, following her with his glance. "HIGHER!"

Tyananna arrived to the line where she started and doubled over, breathing heavily. The Dark Lord approached her.

"Have you ever seen horses do this, Tyananna?" he asked.

Tyananna straightened up, still panting, and nodded.

"And do you know why they never trip over whatever it is that they are jumping over?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the Dark Lord cut in.

"Because they jump HIGH enough!" he roared suddenly and even the two other Sith winced.

Tyananna bowed her head and nodded.

"Again!" the Dark Lord yelled, turning away from her, to her great relief. "In a few minutes!"

Tyananna gulped down some water and looked around the room. Now the Dark Lord was with Lady Tarralyanna. Tyananna wished she had her bendable hips. For her jumping over hurdles would be no problem at all. And yet, she was not given to do what she already could do. Instead she was now standing in the corner and stretching, as the Dark Lord passed her on and joined Lord Tammutyen, who was waiting for him by the rope, looking as though he was going to throw up.

They were not perfecting their talents, but rather working on their weaknesses. The plates set for Lady Tarralyanna were simply too close for a person of her height and she was having immense difficulties with this. The only thing that worked was to change her own height by crouching, jumping and moving backward and forward to give herself more space, which was of course exhausting.

Lord Tammutyen was not having fun, either. His immense weight was pulling him down and speed was not one of his fortes, but strength. Thus to give him to climb the rope in as little time as possible was a nightmare for him.

Once he arrived at the top and threw himself on the wooden platform, the Dark Lord looked down on his hourglass and moved away, to his great relief. He said nothing, what meant he was satisfied with his work.

/End flashback

"Oh, look, this is not so bad anymore, is it?" Tyananna exclaimed, lifting her leg for Tarralyanna to see. Her knee was healing slowly and one could already see a new layer of skin.

"Much better," Lady Tarralyanna said, smiling.

"I wish I had your hips," Tyananna sighed, dabbing more paste over her knee and leaning aback. "Stretching. I must stretch. That should do the trick."

"It will help, yes," Lady Tarralyanna said.

"Anyway, where is Tammutyen?" Tyananna asked.

"In the smithy, by my last account," Tarralyanna said. "Making daggers, by the sound of it."

"What the heck for?" Tyananna growled. "He already has about a hundred."

"For his Jedi pet," Lady Tarralyanna said. "He cannot wait for the Dark Lord to finally give him his new pet."

"What is he doing with them?" Tyananna asked quietly, now opening her eyes and looking at the naked Lady Tarralyanna.

"Speaking to them, I should think," Lady Tarralyanna said placidly. "But then again, who knows?"

Suddenly they heard the door open and close and they looked up. Perhaps it was Peetah, bringing them coffee or was here to attend to the heating system. There were a few splashing sounds, after what they felt the Dark side sweeping over them.

"Oh, it is you," Lady Tarralyanna said, leaning aback again. "Are you done with your daggers? Do you now have enough of them?"

"Nearly," they heard Lord Tammutyen's muffled voice. "Now, I want you to know that I am not wearing any clothes and that I am sitting right here by the first fountain. In case anyone cares to know."

The two women chuckled.

"But I am ready to close my eyes and not use the Force should anyone wish to come out," he added.

They heard him lie down, growl with satisfaction and then fall silent.

"With one Jedi promised to Tammu," Lady Tarralyanna said, thoughtfully staring at Tyananna, "that still leaves one. Do you want to share him?"

Tyananna stared at her.

"I am not certain what is it that you might want to do with him," she said. "I can understand that Tammutyen wants to eat—"

"You have no idea," his voice came from the other side of the garden.

"—but I cannot conceive what would we do with him," Tyananna finished her sentence.

"Whatever it is that you want," Lady Tarralyanna said, sounding a little surprised with her question. "A pet is a pet. I, for one, would like to study him. To ask him questions as I once asked you and put down his answers. See how the Jedi function; to understand them better."

"Oh, that," Tyananna said, a little relieved.

Yes, they were Jedi and they were now her foes, but she did not think she could actually watch one being tortured, or do something like that herself. Though she knew that Lord Tammutyen would definitely torture him and love every second of it.

"That would be interesting," she confessed. "For the sake of comparison, perhaps. Perhaps it might help me understand why it was so hard to pretend I was one of them."

"You were fine when you pretended to be a nobleman's wife," Tarralyanna remarked.

"Yes, but that was different," Tyananna said thoughtfully.

"Perhaps," Lord Tammutyen said from the other side of the water garden, "because it meant playing a village idiot all over again. Evolution is hard; but involution even more so."

The two women exchanged glances and Lady Tarralyanna smiled.

"I think Tammutyen is right," she said.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

That evening in the library, Tyananna thought of something that did not occur to her before. But after all, she had been extremely busy. She approached Lady Tarralyanna, who was bent over a sketch of a volcano which she made herself and was currently labelling it.

"Where are the old scriptures kept?" she asked in a whisper, as Lord Tammutyen was muttering to himself and looking very grumpy, scratching his head and ruffling his already ruffled hair. He seemed to be in a foul mood and there were already three empty cups of coffee resting on the table beside him, which he drank in hope that coffee might clear his mind, but to no avail.

"Which ones?" Lady Tarralyanna asked in an undertone, casting a glance in Tammutyen's direction.

He threw his quill in annoyance and cursed in Sith.

"From the First Age," Tyananna whispered. "Is there something written about the world as it was then? I am merely curious."

Together they crossed the library, closely followed by Lord Tammutyen's angry glance, who was watching them with his eyes narrowed as though resenting them for breathing, and approached a tall glass cabinet in the corner. Thick glass protected the manuscripts and scrolls from decay and Lady Tarralyanna carefully opened it.

"Let me see," she said quietly.

Tyananna felt her reach out with the Dark side, skimming with her Force eyes over the labels on the scrolls.

"Ah, yes."

She pointed a finger and one of the scrolls extracted itself from the pile and flew right into her hands. She proffered it to Tyananna with a smile.

"But it looks new!" Tyananna said in surprise.

Lord Tammutyen growled and the two leaned toward each other.

"Of course," Lady Tarralyanna whispered into her ear. "Master copied it ages ago. It is the task of every Dark Lord to do preserve the old manuscripts and thus keep the knowledge of the Sith alive."

"Oh, I see," Tyananna said, holding the scroll carefully in her hands.

Tyananna felt an angry pair of eyes following her back to her table, trying to walk as quietly as she could. She did not want to disturb Lord Tammutyen, who seemed to be in a very bad mood for some reason. What was he working on, anyway?

She unrolled the scroll and set her eyes on the familiar handwriting which filled the scroll margin to margin.

"_Writings of the Dark Lord Manii'Teth, continued_," stood on the top of the scroll. So that was his name, she thought!

"_Legends are something one should pay considerable attention to, for in every legend there is a hint of truth. However, one should also avoid getting tangled in pure fantasy. By studying legends I have learned a lot, insomuch that I acquired hints which took me in the right direction. The world as I know it, now in the Year 1430 of the First Age, has not always been like this, contrary to what people believe._ _By studying the Dark side, I am learning about the world and forces that shape it. By studying the ocean, for instance, one can observe that rhythm is the primordial tune to which the world dances, and we see it all around us_."

Fascinated, Tyananna plunged on. Thanks to her studies of the Sith Code, the archaic and poetic Sith was no longer so strange for her. However, it rather seemed that the Dark Lord had modernised it a little, as she expected something far, far worse.

"_According to my calculations, the Luth sun has not been visible to us for such a long time, let along since the beginning of time, as it is believed by the Albinian scholars. Its size, its position in regard to Cyrron, which is a giant compared to it, appoint to this. Moreover, after years of careful observation and measurement, I have concluded that it is getting closer to Cyrron, for the Cyrron hours last every day a little longer, and that is valid for all four seasons. Therefore my conclusion is quite straightforward – the Luth sun is still moving_."

"_The great stones of Maltah trembled a month ago as I was sitting and doing my calculations. The bowel of the mother Horukaan is moving. A week later, the skies wept – I have__ seen a star flash __across the skies, which disappeared behind the horizon. The era of inertia and stability is coming to its end; things are changing – I can feel it in the Dark side_."

What followed was a concise description of the planet as it was then and Tyananna bent over the map which was included in the memoirs. This knowledge had been preserved for so long, being rewritten by every Dark Lord that ever lived – she still had no idea how many of them were – and every apprentice, after the death of his Master, would take the responsibility of rewriting the memoirs and ancient scriptures, thus preserving the knowledge and the ancient Sith line. Tradition was something her Master put a great emphasis on, she noticed it right from the beginning.

"_Yea, in my travels across the great arid land which is called Manna by the Albinians who live on its borders, which is upon the first glance, an endless desert, I have stumbled across something yet unseen by the human eye. I have travelled for weeks due north, until I have reached a part of land which was covered in red mist and unmoving, silent water. I have skimmed over it with the Dark side and concluded that it was shallow. I have sensed something strange ahead of me and I set off to find it. So I have waded for hours and in the end stumbled across an island, where I sat down to look at my surroundings. _

_The water, though it resembled a lake, did not move at all. Every now and then the Mother Horukaan exhaled, producing fine ripples on the surface of the normally unmovable water. Soon I have come to the conclusion that the bubbles appearing on the surface were responsible for the red must which a common man shuns, thinking those are poisonous vapours or breaths of infernal beasts. A Sith however, does not fear the unknown and so I believe I am the only person alive who knows this. _

_I have taken a sample of the soil to analyse and I cannot wait to see the results_."

"_Even now, as this year draws to its end, I can say that things are changing. The world is waking from its long sleep, getting ready for a new era. The skies, which are normally light blue or white, depending on the position of our Cyrron sun, occasionally turn violet. _

_One day during the Fiery Season, I felt that the Dark side was urging me to travel again. My path has taken me across the mountains of Meh'Gloth and there, by one of the mountain lakes, I have found my student. I have settled down by the lake to work, since the nights were very clear and I could observe the stars. One day a young shepherd came across me and I immediately sensed he __was Force-sensitive. Knowing my duty to the Dark side, I have taken him back home with me in __order to teach him of the ways of the Dark side. My life is slowly nearing its end, but I have found a worthy apprentice. In these few years I have left, I shall do my very best to leave a worthy successor behind me_."

"How many Dark Lords there were throughout history?" Tyananna asked breathlessly, leaning over Lady Tarralyanna's table. Her volcano sketch was now complete, she noticed.

"Why such sudden interest in our history?" Lady Tarralyanna asked with a secretive smile. "Have you read the scroll?"

"Three times," Tyananna answered, her eyes gleaming. "It is something beyond fantastic. I love the way he wrote."

"I find that he often lacks precision and sometimes tends to stray away from the point," Lady Tarralyanna said with a frown. "But he was a great scholar indeed. I am still using some of his formulae, you know. He had an amazing mind and most of his discoveries are the basis of astronomy and geology as I learned about them."

"But, to answer your question," she went on, noting that Tyananna was very impatient to get an answer, "No one really knows. We do not know whether there were any Force-sensitive individuals who have served the Dark side existed before the Dark Lord Manii'Teth, and if Master knows, he has never told us. However, if it means something to you, our Master is called the Lord of the Seventh Sith Dynasty. I did not know that myself until the Ceremony of the Coming, when his full title had to be stated and it came as a bit of a surprise to me as well."

"Dynasty?" Tyananna echoed in an awed whisper. "You mean, like a line of kings?"

"Well, that is what the word means, does it not?" Lady Tarralyanna said with a smile. "If one is given the title of the Dark Lord, one is the voice and hands of the Dark side on the face of the world. Thus his title basically means that he is the mediator between the Force itself and the world. Each dynasty is ruled by one Dark Lord who has started it. His apprentices, however long the line might be, are counted in, of course, and are not mentioned. When the line breaks, for whichever reason, the dynasty ends. So was with the death of the Dark Lord of the Second Age, our Master's master. When he passed into the Force, the line was broken. But the Seventh Dynasty arose with the next incarnate Sith, meaning our Master, who has continued the line by acknowledging us as his apprentices and educating us in the ways of the Dark side."

"I think that is so fascinating I could spend a whole week reading through the ancient scrolls," Tyananna said after a moment of silence. Lady Tarralyanna chuckled, what made Lord Tammutyen angrily look up once again.

"I am glad you are eager to explore your roots and to honour them for what they are," Lady Tarralyanna whispered.

"I find strange comfort and gratitude," Tyananna whispered back, looking at the sketch of the volcano without really seeing it, "that I have been chosen to partake in this fantastic tradition. I used to be a nobody, a nameless Jedi, not differing from any other in any way. But now I am a part of one of the Sith dynasties and I think it is just fascinating."

Lady Tarralyanna put a hand on hers and smiled at her. In this moment Lord Tammutyen snorted loudly and shook his head. Apparently their whispered conversation and Lady Tarralyanna's gesture were too much for him. The two turned around.

"Oh, cut it out, will you," Lady Tarralyanna barked all of a sudden, getting to her feet. "Why do you not let us help you?"

She approached him while he stared at her with his eyes narrowed.

"I know you are too proud to say you need help," Lady Tarralyanna said, crossing her hands on her chest. "But this is why you have us, to turn to us if you need help, just as you teach Tyananna deadly kicks."

Tammutyen stared at her for a few moments, torn between the desire to just give it up and tell her to go away, as this would mean acknowledging he did not have a clue what to do and was stuck. Finally he leaned aback and tossed away his quill with an air of resignation.

"If you can make sense out of this mess," he said at last, "please do."

Lady Tarralyanna snorted and sat down on a chair next to him, whereas Tyananna leaned against his chair and began to rub his ear. She knew how much he liked that and she watched him relax as Lady Tarralyanna took an extra piece of parchment and began to scribble furiously, explaining what she was doing as she did so.

Sometime later, the door of the library opened and the Dark Lord swept in. Although she wondered why he was there, Tyananna was at the same time grateful for the distraction. She felt that she could not force a single word into her weary brain.

"Rise," he said curtly.

He was closely followed by Peetah, who was carrying a fresh pot of steaming coffee. Tyananna noticed with surprise that he was wearing his sad'khai and was carrying his Mer'Tah. Normally the Dark Lord wore wide black robes and this struck her as very odd. Had he been... training? Well, she reasoned, he had to, though they had never seen him at it. A Sith had to maintain a certain level of physical strength, endurance and agility.

"I am finished with our two Jedi," he said seriously. He nodded in Lord Tammutyen's direction. "You may choose one, Tammutyen. However, I want you to keep him in the dungeons. I do not want him – or her – in the Temple. And I do not want you to kill him. You may play with him and do whatever you like with him, but I do not want him dead. We might still need them. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," Lord Tammutyen said at once, his eyes twinkling with excitement. No coffee in the world, however strong, could make his eyes twinkle like that, Tyananna thought.

"They shall be separated," the Dark Lord went on, following Peetah with his glance as though waiting for her to come out.

Peetah was of course a slave, just as her husband. But Tyananna tended to forget the fact since she sincerely cared about the three of them and mainly considered her to be a sort of a governess. But now she wondered whether the Dark Lord lashed her often and in which way he punished the other slaves, for whichever reason. Peetah was scared stiff of him and was now trying very hard not to spill the coffee she was pouring for Lady Tarralyanna. After all, as Lady Tarralyanna told her, the Dark Lord's methods of torture and punishment in Gotan were legendary. No other ruler had invented such a broad spectrum of punishment for criminals. Lady Tarralyanna also told her that he had a few servants whose sole duty was to torture information out of people, but he was the one who instructed them how to do it.

"Lady Tarralyanna and Tyananna may have the other Jedi," the Dark Lord went on. "You may do whatever you like with him. However, the same rule applies – he must remain in the dungeons and he must remain alive."

"We understand, Master," Lady Tarralyanna said quickly.

"Very well," the Dark Lord said, glancing over their work and nodding. "You may continue with your work."

The door closed behind him with a soft click. Lord Tammutyen let out an excited yelp as soon as he was gone and threw himself on his chair once again. He needed to finish his work before he could go and visit his new pet, that went without saying.

"Let us go down to the dungeons once we are done with our work," Lady Tarralyanna said excitedly. "We can have coffee there. We can speak to them! Ask them questions! I will make a list!"

Tyananna nodded weakly and smiled at her, sitting down as well. Was she feeling pity? Or was she just nervous?

oooooooooooooooooo

As Lady Tarralyanna said it was awfully cold in the dungeons, Tyananna put her warmest cloak on and also wrapped a shawl around her neck. As it was now Solid Season, the air was very dry and there were water bowls placed all around the Temple.

Lady Tarralyanna arrived a little late, looking very excited. She waved at Tyananna with a large key in her hand and led her to the door leading down to the dungeons. Tyananna had no idea that dungeons even existed in the Sith Temple, but upon reflection, she concluded it was kind of logical.

They began to descend a long, winding flight of stairs and with each their step the air grew staler and colder. Tyananna could not believe that such a change in the temperature was possible. She tightened the scarf around her neck and noticed a door on the first landing, which Lady Tarralyanna passed without pausing.

"What is in here?" she asked her, pointing at the door.

The door was too beautiful to be an entrance to a cell. Lady Tarralyanna paused, looked at the door and then smiled broadly.

"Oh, I have forgotten you have not been to the relic room yet!" she exclaimed.

She turned and opened the door without further ado, revealing a spacious hall behind it.

"Master made a special room where he put all of the relics and certain possessions of the Sith," she said.

As soon as she entered, Tyananna felt something strange permeating the entire underground hall. It was not the smell, nor was it the cold. What was it?

She approached the first cabinet, one out of many, and Lady Tarralyanna came to stand beside her, eagerly peering through the glass. A tarnished compass was resting on a piece of silk and it was crudely made.

"The compass of the Dark Lord of the First Age," Lady Tarralyanna said quietly. "With this compass he made the calculations and discoveries I am using today. I have similar one. Awe-inspiring, do you not think so?"

Tyananna was fascinated. She passed the cabinet and leaned over the second one. Scraps of paper and an unrolled scroll were resting under the thick glass. The Sith glyphs on the yellow scroll faded considerably, but she could still make them out.

"_I, Lord Ka'Th'Spaa, the Dark Lord of the Sith, in the Year 3023 of the Third Age, thereby give up my title and pass __it__ on to my Apprentice," _it read.

Tyananna let out an involuntary gasp, seeing the name of her Master written down for her to see for the first time. She did not doubt this was his name, though she had never heard it, for the two Sith had never spoken it aloud.

"_Be __the executing hand of __the __will __of Darkness in__ the world and the voice of its power. Hereby I knight you; and name you the Dark Lord of the Sith. May the __mighty __Darkness __always __be with you, my Apprentice."_

There was a signature underneath it, along with a complicated little glyph which Tyananna did not recognise. She pointed at it, tacitly asking Tarralyanna what it meant.

"Oh, that is the Dark Lord's name in the Dark side," she whispered, nodding. "After the Ceremony of the Coming, we all receive names in the Dark side."

"What does it mean?" Tyananna asked, wide-eyed.

"I do not know, of course," Lady Tarralyanna said. "And we do not ask. You will get one too once you are knighted."

Tyananna looked down on the rest of the papers occupying the cabinet. She recognised the Dark Lord's handwriting on all of them.

"Oh!" she yelped, coming to stand before a tall cabinet which contained a sword. It was simply beautiful, she thought.

"That is the one sword which was used by the Dark Lord of the Second Age to kill the King of the Albinian Empire," Lady Tarralyanna said, glancing over it with fondness in her eyes. Tyananna gaped at her. "Yes, he sawed his head off."

She drew her finger over her throat, emitting a gurgling sound which only helped Tyananna's vivid imagination and she gulped, glancing over the heavy, sharp blade. She did not know whether to feel disgusted or awed. Both, she imagined. This was the blade which killed the King of the Albinian Empire that once stretched across the largest part of the First Continent. She knew that he got killed, yes, but the history never said who killed him and everyone presumed he perished in battle, like so many others. So what went wrong in the Dark Lord's invasion?

"Are there other weapons of other Dark Lords in here?" she asked.

"Oh, no," Lady Tarralyanna said, approaching the next cabinet. "This sword was not exactly the Dark Lord's personal weapon. They are buried with their owners. It is tradition."

"Ooh, what is this?" Tyananna exclaimed.

She was staring at a flat piece of rock which was obviously centuries old. Symbols were chiselled in the rock and though they were faint, Tyananna was certain she recognised several Sith glyphs. At the very bottom of the rock there were a few glyphs, which obviously constituted a word. However, the the stone was so old and was so damaged it was impossible to tell what it was.

"That," Lady Tarralyanna said, smiling, "is the oldest relic our Master has ever found. It would be quite foolish to presume that this was the first time the Sith alphabet has been written down, for we have no evidence of it, of course. But it dates from the First Age."

She glanced over it with an expression of admiration. But of course. The glyphs were not written as they are written nowadays, but upon closer inspection, Tyananna noted a familiar pattern in which the glyphs had been chiselled.

"What is this underneath the alphabet?" she asked, staring at the signature. "This would be the name of the Dark Lord in the Dark side, yes?"

"Correct," Lady Tarralyanna affirmed. "Well, it begins with the word 'Lord' as far as the both of us can see. But unfortunately, the stone is so dilapidated at that particular spot that we cannot be certain of anything."

She sighed and shook her head. They arrived back to the door and Tyananna's glance fell on the tall archway which constituted the entrance to another hall. There were golden Sith glyphs written across the archway and Tyananna inclined her head, starting to read.

"_We have built monuments, devoting them to the mighty Dark side._ _We have been putting down __words of the Dark side on paper with our mortal hands. May all of that disappear in flame and turn to ash, may our foes burn it and destroy it; but our presence shall never be gone. Our voices shall never be forgotten and they shall forever echo the world, never fading, persevering. The servants of Darkness shall never fall into shadow, for in Darkness we are immortal."_

"Mighty Darkness," Tyananna gasped, staring up, "It is beautiful!"

Lady Tarralyanna laughed and approached the tapestry in the corner.

"Here is the Seventh Dynasty," she said as Tyananna walked over to her and glanced over the black tapestry with golden Sith glyphs.

The Dark Lord's name was written at the top of it and there were two lines leading downward to Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna's names, with their names in the Dark side written beside each of their names. Birth dates had also been written underneath it and... Tyananna gasped. Her name was on it as well! Lady Tarralyanna turned to her with an expression of amusement on her face.

"What, did you think that you would not be here?" she asked with a smile. "Of course you are. As soon as you passed your Ceremony of Birth, Master added you up."

Tyananna stared at the tapestry in a complete loss of words. Underneath the glyphs which read 'Tah'Y'Nanna' was her date of birth.

"He knows when I have been born!" she exclaimed.

Lady Tarralyanna did not seem to think that this deserved a comment and merely chuckled.

"And so your name has been added to the Seventh Sith Dynasty," she said quietly. "It is obvious that no one expected this to happen, or else your name would have been written down beside ours, but as it is, there was no space. But I daresay Master shall make a new tapestry as soon as he gets the chance."

Her name... written down in history, Tyananna thought. She would never had been granted such an honour in the Jedi Order. She was surprised that anyone remembered her at all. And yet, her name was right here, written underneath the name of the Dark Lord. She was now a part of this amazing tradition and one day the whole world would know her name.

But there was something else written underneath her name. She leaned forward to take a better look, narrowing her eyes. The Sith glyphs read 'Albinian'. She quickly looked up Lord Tammutyen's name. 'Creature of the night' had been written underneath it. But underneath Lady Tarralyanna's name stood a word which meant 'non-Horukaan'. The daughter of the stars, she thought, glancing quickly in her direction. Not born on this world and even she had no idea where she had come from.

"This is the banner which has been carried by the Dark armies during the Great War of the Second Age," Lady Tarralyanna said.

Tyananna quickly approached her and glanced over the small banner. There were no Sith glyphs on it, but rather a symbol which represented the Dark side, or, to be more precise, one of the symbols which represented it. It was a strange pyramid with a large, black circle surmounting it.

"The symbol embodies the desire of the Dark side to rule the world, which is signified by the black sun at the top of the pyramid," Lady Tarralyanna said. "But I daresay that our Master has made a new one for the oncoming war, one that is more fitting for the Third Age as it is."

"This is a copy of the Sith Code, once it has been rewritten in the Second Age," she went on, pointing at a black, leather-bound book in a cabinet.

It looked exactly like one of the Sith Code books Tyananna was reading. However she recognised the handwriting – it was that of the Dark Lord of the Second Age. Her glance fell on the following paragraph and she recognised it from the Third Book:

"_And all those who dare to cross the path of a Sith and thwart him in his intention, obstruct him in the execution of his Will, shall be impaled on the sword of Darkness and burnt to ashes; he shall burn his enemies with fire and Rage and clear his path; because he is Darkness and Darkness is him_."

"I remember that," Tyananna said, staring at the book. "I still do not think I understand completely. But then again, each one of us has their own interpretation of the Sith Code, I believe."

"You are right," Lady Tarralyanna said happily. "I am glad you are finally beginning to understand the ancient wisdom written in those books."

Tyananna had no idea what to say to that. Obviously she said the right thing, because Lady Tarralyanna considered her conclusion that the Sith Code could be interpreted differently by different people as an accomplishment and a sign that she was beginning to understand it. But the truth was, Tyananna had stopped trying to understand what the books were talking about and merely focused on her own impressions. Which seemed to be the right thing to do.

They left the relic room and descended the spiral staircase. Tyananna began to vaguely wonder just how deep the foundations of the Sith Temple went as they finally arrived to the bottom. They passed through a narrow corridor and found themselves in an underground room. A long, dark corridor led away from it, and Tyananna supposed that was where the cells were.

To her surprise, the air was not so stale here and she could feel a faint draft. Apparently there were ventilation ducts built in the walls. However, it was so cold that she pulled her cloak up to her nose and shivered.

"Soon you will be wearing warm cloaks all through the Fiery Season," Lady Tarralyanna remarked happily. Obviously she took it as a sign that Tyananna was finally adapting to the Dark side and that she was transforming into a true Sith.

Tyananna was about to retort when they spotted someone lying on a stone bench in the corner. Lady Tarralyanna snorted and approached the lying figure.

"Have you overindulged again?" she asked sharply, leaning over it.

There was a low growl and the figure stirred.

"You will get a belly," Lady Tarralyanna said with disapproval. "I can already see one coming up."

"No... belly..." muttered the figure in a chocked voice. "I swear... I will... kick myself if I ever eat this much again."

"You might not have to," Lady Tarralyanna said grimly. "The Dark Lord just might do it for you if he sees you in this state."

The mention of the Dark Lord seemed to sober Tammutyen up and he sat up with a moan, rubbing his stomach. He probably drank a gallon of blood in less than two minutes, Tyananna reckoned.

"Tammutyen has chosen the female," Lady Tarralyanna said, peeking inside her cell.

She was sitting in one corner of the cell and staring into space. Lady Tarralyanna swept with the Dark side over her to ascertain herself that the Jedi apprentice was alive and kicking and moved away.

"Here is our Jedi," she said, turning to beam at Tyananna.

oooooooooooooooo

They had a long and fruitless conversation with the Jedi master, who did not want to answer even the simplest questions and who seemed to want to be left alone. Tyananna had no idea what the Dark Lord did to him, but she supposed that torture was definitely involved. Lady Tarralyanna decided she would speak to him and ask him for suggestions, but for the time being, the two Sith left him alone in his cell and went after their business.

However, the following day, having finished up early in the library, instead of going to her chambers, Tyananna found herself going down to the dungeons. I am allowed to do this, she kept reminding herself as she walked with a torch in her hand; the Dark Lord would not mind me doing this. She left her torch in the rack, unlocked the cell and entered. The Jedi master stared at her.

"Follow me," she said in a commanding voice.

He got up slowly, without a word, and, with the black shackles still around his wrists, followed her to the underground chamber where she and Lady Tarralyanna once found Lord Tammutyen dozing off after a sumptuous meal. She told him to sit down on the bench and pulled up a chair. As she reached out for the chair, she noticed he flinched. Quick movements seemed to make him uncomfortable. She had no idea what the Dark Lord did to him, but after all, his torture methods were legendary. She tried not to think about it.

"How is your throat today?" she asked.

"It is not worse," the Jedi master answered in a croak.

Tyananna pushed a water ewer toward him. He gripped it eagerly with the both of his hands and began to drink. She patiently waited for him to finish, watching him. Despite of all, she could not see any grave injuries and she knew for a fact that Peetah had been ordered to send slaves down to the dungeons with food and water on regular intervals. Whatever the Dark Lord did to him made him look like a broken man.

"You are the fifth Jedi the Dark Lord caught without meaning to, you know," she said, smiling. She did not know why she said it.

"Who was the first?" the Jedi asked.

"The first two were master Waak and I," Tyananna answered.

But when he looked up, she checked. His expression reminded her irresistibly of Waak when he spoke to her right before they entered the Land of Gnath. He looked drained and his eyes were filled with despair. She had no idea what she was going to say or why she had come here. She felt that the matter needed some sort of closure; perhaps she was there to boast with everything she accomplished in the Dark side; perhaps to make certain that he was all right; and perhaps she wanted to talk to him about her past.

"But tell me," she went on quickly, "what do you remember the most about me? You used to teach me, after all."

"Came here to reminisce, have you?" he asked.

"Perhaps," Tyananna said, noting how he was probably right, but not allowing herself to feel ashamed because of it. Wishing to resolve some issues was not something she ought to be ashamed of, she knew.

"And if I decline to speak to a traitor such as you are," the Jedi said a little louder, "What will you do to me? Lash me? Strangle me with the Dark side?"

"That is not my task," Tyananna answered, surprised at his use of the word traitor and at his unhidden aggression.

He labelled her as a traitor; and yet she felt she was everything but that. But, in his eyes, she supposed, she most certainly was. Very well, she thought to herself; I am a traitor. A traitor of the ridiculous tradition that does not recognise one's abilities and is not really interested in educating people in the ways of the Force. They are merely interested in finding the most talented and gifted individuals, who need very little teaching and training, and then boasting around with them, sending them on errands so that the people would know how great and magnificent the Jedi Order is. It was no secret that not every Jedi could be sent to deal with something, to do something for the people, and those who were unfortunate not to be talented enough to fall into that category, could never hope to get such an honour.

"That is my Master's task," she said coldly.

The Jedi master thought back of the many days he had spent here, with the Sith Lord in the cell with him, mentally asking him questions. He was unable to push him away and he felt as though he was in a trance, with the answers to the questions appearing in his weary mind on their own accord. In the beginning he was tortured but only until he was weak and helpless enough for the Sith Lord's purpose. But he had not forgotten the pain; he had not forgotten the thousand knives around his throat which were the hands of the Dark side and the paralysing fear he felt upon the sheer sight of the Sith Lord. No, he did not want that monster to come back for not answering his apprentice's questions and thus he resolved to speak to Tyananna.

However, he could not hide his bitterness. She did not resemble the child he once knew. This version of Larynthe was deadly pale and the coldness and darkness in her eyes made him shudder. He was certain that the Sith Lord lured her with promises of power and fame, but now it was too late for him to do or say anything. Darkness was written all over her.

"I remember you used to have difficulties with concentration," he said, digging through his mind for something she would want to hear.

The Sith cracked a smile and leaned back, expecting more, and he concluded that he said the right thing. Spite and stubbornness would lead him nowhere, he was sure of that.

"I remember you and young Waak-Lin were inseparable," he went on. "You followed him around wherever he went, and he explained everything you had difficulties with. I could see that your work improved; but I knew at once why this was so, having seen the two of you together, knowing that you could not have done it yourself."

Tyananna was shocked with his view on the matter and was annoyed with his contempt. It was obvious that he thought he was giving her facts; but she felt quite differently about it, of course. When Waak taught her something, it was her own accomplishment and not his. What was supposed to be a joyous trip to the past turned out to be digging through everything that annoyed her about the Jedi Order. She frowned and crossed her hands on her chest.

She could not possibly hope that the her former teacher would realise just how much she had accomplished and how much she had grown. He could only see a Sith in her and therefore someone who had to be destroyed, regardless of his accomplishments and power. To the Jedi all Sith were filth and there was not one shred of beauty or greatness in them. Tyananna's pity was swiftly wearing off and she caught herself wondering whether she should ask the Dark Lord to give her the Jedi master to be her pet. But, she had not come here for nothing. She wanted to see fear in his eyes and to hear him acknowledge her power and she would have all of that, she decided.

"You have not seen me in the Jedi Temple, have you?" she asked softly. "Surely you have come out with the rest of the Jedi to see what was all the yelling about, while master Quallath was chasing after me? I did not have time to look, of course, so I cannot remember..."

She sighed, as though the sheer memory of the event filled her once again with the pleasant feeling of triumph.

"Well?" she prompted him as he remained silent, staring at her with hatred in his eyes.

"I have seen someone being chased by master Quallath, yes," he said through his teeth. "And before that, I felt the Force tremble. I felt the Dark side. I could not mistake such destructiveness for anything else."

"That was me, duelling with master Quallath and master Hak-Nari," she said with a smirk.

So, his definition of the Dark side was 'destructiveness'? She remembered the line from the Sith Code Lady Tarralyanna and she had been reading in the relic room.

"They pursued me for some time; but my Master shook them off ."

"They did not say they encountered anyone else," the Jedi said, sounding surprised.

Tyananna straightened up in her chair, glowing with pride.

"No," she said, smiling pleasantly at him with an air of arrogance and superiority. "He acted through the Dark side and played a trick on their minds."

This confirmed his greatest fears. Now he knew that the Dark side could twist people's minds even at great distances and that it could do Force knows what else. However, he did not believe that this knowledge would help him a lot, being kept a prisoner here with no means of escape and no means of telling the Order what he had found out.

"Still, I found out a great deal," she said, looking up at the ceiling. "What you plan to do, what you know about the Sith... I suppose that my discovery was to be expected, after all. I have spent quite a bit of time in the Jedi Temple, without being detected."

"Quallath shall find you," the Jedi growled through his clenched teeth.

Tyananna let out a throaty laugh which made his every hair stand on end. She crossed her hands on her chest and beamed at him.

"I have fought with your great master Quallath," she said in a dangerous voice. "I alone did it! After only a few years of training in the Dark side I could fight with two of the Jedi Order's greatest warriors! What do you think would happen if the Dark Lord ever decided to duel any of you?"

She leaned forward and clenched her fist in front of his face, making him wince. He could not bear looking into her eyes which seemed to be burning with anger and yet he could not look away. He felt the now familiar chill swirling around her and swallowed.

"The Dark Lord is far more powerful than any of you," she spat, savouring the impression her words had on the Jedi.

"Have I known you were this wicked," he said at last, in a voice trembling with anger he could not hold back for the life of him, "I would have expelled you from the Order!"

Tyananna laughed again.

"Allow you to accidentally fall through the window!" he yelled.

Her eyes twinkled maniacally. She managed to provoke him.

"Would you, now?" she asked, now irresistibly reminding herself of the Dark Lord. "You would have forsaken your Jedi principles of non-violence? Of loving every creature on Horukaan?"

"The Sith do not deserve our pity," he snarled.

"So," she said triumphantly. "You adhere to the rules and holy Jedi principles as long as it suits you. When it no longer does, you abandon them. Wonderful."

"There is evil," he said, staring at her and breathing very fast, "that does not deserve to be allowed to live."

"And you get to decide?" she yelled. Now she was having great fun. "You get to play god?"

"I am the protector of the people and it is my duty to protect them from such evil," he spat.

"Why, I suppose it is all right then," she said, beaming at him. "To push a child through the window and watch it die, if it seems to attract the Dark side for some reason."

Her constant smiling and laughing were driving him mad.

"Just as long as you invent an explanation for you actions and sweep it under the rug called principles," she added.

"What do you know about principles and reasons, traitor?" he yelled. "You have crossed over to the Dark side, betrayed the Jedi Order! You betrayed our trust, broke your oath and sold all of our secrets to the Dark side! What do you know about honour? You have none."

"It is probably true," she said calmly.

She lifted a hand, wrapping the Dark side around his throat and began to squeeze. He rolled with his eyes and emitted a strange gurgling sound, which only intensified Tyananna's feeling of satisfaction as she squeezed his throat with the Dark side.

"But you know what? I am a Sith. It is just the way I am."

Suddenly she let him fall on the ground, which he hit with a dull thud. He gasped for air and massaged his throat, whereas Tyananna glanced over him and smirked. She made a pace in his direction and he made a move to jump away from her. She grinned.

"Afraid of me, are you?" she asked softly. "Afraid of what one of those despicable and horrible Sith might do to you? It is well. So it is supposed to be."

She lifted him off the ground with the Dark side once again, but this time it was to levitate him back to his cell, which she locked.

"Sleep well," she said through the bars. He remained lying where she dropped him, staring at her through his filthy hair. "I shall certainly come back to have another chat with you. I enjoyed it, you know."

With a smirk she picked up the torch again and began to climb the winding stairs back to the Temple. In the end, she actually enjoyed talking to him.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Dozens and dozens of messengers left the capital City of the Kingdom of Gotan, just as the Dark Lord was walking back to the Sith Temple.

The guards on duty jumped aside as soon as the riders, suddenly looming up in sight, demanded the gates to be opened. For a while they rode in a cluster, but then they split up, each going his own way. They were all carrying scrolls in their coats which were not sealed with the crest of Gotan, but with a new seal, one no one had seen before and which represented the Dark side in the oncoming war. War was about to break out on the whole world; and yet the world had no idea about it.

Gimya Arnthok awaited the messenger from Gotan with a grave expression. The orders were signed by the Dark Lord and Gimya had been expecting something of the sort for a while. Gimya summoned his companions, or the members of the Fellowship of the Horse-Lords, as they called themselves, and they sat down together to decide what to do. In the meantime they managed to overthrow the richest fillanyi family in the Land of Montague and divided duties and positions among themselves. And while horses were being brought to their new residence, the Fellowship sat deep in council, bent over a map of the Continent, glancing over the Dark Lord's orders every now and then. The Dark Lord certainly made their work easy, since his orders were pretty straightforward and clear.

Ruthok of Mangora made a delighted swing with his mace as he read through the scroll, as this was the moment they had all been waiting for. In no time the underground City of Mangora was in uproar, getting ready for war.

Mongrap, who had just being elected by the people as the ruler of the Droddian Kingdom, was equally excited at the news. However, as soon as he read it, his companions took the scroll from him, knowing that they had to take care of everything in his stead. They quickly dispatched messengers to call people to war.

In the hills of Flotharr, Chief Gon-Gah let his hand with the scroll in it fall. He sighed and looked up to the clear skies. 'It is time,' he whispered to himself.

A long snake of warriors departed from Gangar. Their helmets and breastplates were gleaming in the sun as they, fully armed, carrying the banners of Gangar along with the banners which they made according to the sketch the Dark Lord had included in his orders, rode due south, heading toward the border. Chief Growthak rode with his one hand resting on his knee at the head of the long procession, wearing a serious expression. He was wearing armour with the embossed crest of Gangar, his wild black hair flying in the wind. He had waited for this for a very long time; and he was ready. His people, who were following him twos and threes, were ready. Chief Growthak smiled as the warriors behind him began to sing battle songs, which gradually got louder and heartier. Gangar was ready for this war.

A large troop of Malaskians, seated on ponies, was riding at the exact same time through Pallantia. They looked rather strange carrying weapons, but their small hands were also wrapped around the banners with the same symbol representing the Dark side. Women and children stood in the doorways of their small houses, watching with tears in their eyes as their husbands, fathers and brothers rode to war. Clatter of arms woke even the soundest sleepers and soon everyone was out, watching this long and silent procession coming through their village. A small boy gave his mother's sleeve a tug and asked: "Where are they going, mother?" The woman pressed him against her, clapping a hand over his mouth. She watched them go with tears in her eyes, which she wiped off with her apron. His father had departed a long time ago, but she could not bring herself to tell her children. "To war, child. Your father is going to war, along with everyone else." "But why?" asked the child. He did not know exactly what the word 'war' meant, but he knew it must be something terrible. "Because he has to," said the woman, crying. "He has been called."

In the Empire of Larria the ships were being fitted out, to be ready to put to sea, and large barrels full of tar and water were being rolled across wide gangways which led to stately ships. This had been done by the order of the new Emperor, who stood on his balcony in the Imperial mansion, watching the sailors work with his brow furrowed. He had built ships which were pride of the Empire; he had outdone himself and done what he thought was impossible. Now he was waiting for the Dark armies to arrive and to board his ships. Perhaps only now he could feel the seriousness of the situation. As the orders from Gotan arrived, fear pervaded him and was eating him from inside ever since. He watched the banner of the Empire being hauled up to the top of the mast, along with the banner the Dark Lord had drawn for him. In the gentle morning sunlight, the black, gold and scarlet banner made everything look even more real. Watching it flog in the wind, he realised that speculation and planning had just become reality, that distant tomorrow became today, the day when history would change. And he, Plátaa, would get to write a few words into its pages as well.

On the Second Continent, the shamans were also getting ready for war by dancing their war dance around a large fire. All of the chiefs had been summoned and they sat around the fire, smoking pipes and talking about their latest visions. Every now and then they looked expectantly at Takkaniku, waiting for him to share one of his own visions with them. But the young chief sat in silence, smoking his pipe, the feathers in his hair ruffled by the breeze. His was wearing a serious expression which frightened them and stared at the fire all through the war dance. They let him be; but as the dance and the invocations to spirits of war were over, they decided it would be about time they spoke to him.

"Takkaniku," one of them said. He looked up, still wearing a thoughtful expression. "You must be our leader. The messenger of war came to you; it has chosen you among us all."

"Leader?" Takkaniku echoed, looking at him as though he saw him for the first time in his life. "I am the chief of my tribe; I will not command anyone else's."

"But..." the chief who addressed him started, at what the young Takkaniku waved an impatient hand.

"All of us shall go to war," he said in a clear, echoing voice, with all chiefs now listening. "And each shall lead his own tribe. So it must be."

They left it at that, presuming that he had seen something, that he had a vision of some sort, which made him act in this way. And thus, upon the completion of their feast, they gathered their weapons, smeared war paint over their faces and headed to the shore, where their boats stood at ready. They built new boats, larger and sturdier, and they also made masts, having seen other people of Horukaan do this and in that fashion cross the ocean. They spread hides to serve as sails and attached them to the sides of their boats just as the Larrians instructed them to. When the shaman women next looked out to the ocean, they could see that the whole horizon was dotted with boats, the sails flogging in the wind. They left ghostly silence behind and the shaman women retreated to their cottages, intending to consult the spirits and ask them how they could help.

The capital City of Gotan was in uproar. A pair of eyes was following everything that was going on through the Dark side, whose owner was sitting on one of the balconies of the Sith Temple. The three apprentices to the Dark Lord waited patiently for him to finish with whatever he was doing and did not move or speak until he opened his eyes.

"Havoc and confusion," he said quietly, lighting his pipe. "Chaos and madness. We must go tomorrow to speak to the army; or else they will behead our good general and serve him to the crows."

"What will you tell them, Master?" Lady Tarralyanna asked quietly.

The Dark Lord's face, half-hidden by his hood, was as inscrutable as always.

"I will either make a tyrant out of myself, stating that I wished to conquer the whole Continent; or I will tell them the truth." He looked down on the small coffee-table and shook his head. "I do not know yet, Tarralyanna. That is my answer."

"And so our Tyananna discovered that even her patience has limits," he said after a few moments they spent in silence. It was nothing uncommon for them to sit in silence and though Tyananna found it a little confusing in the beginning, now she felt it was rather refreshing. After all, she did not always have something to say. So why speak?

"The Dark side despises stupidity more than anything else and it is perfectly understandable that you reacted to stupidity in that way. A Sith realises that all his power is a result of his own work and no one else's. It only natural that he is proud of what he has accomplished. I am pretty certain that Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna would have done something similar."

"And I want you to know that I do not blame you for nearly strangling him and scaring him," the Dark Lord went on with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen looked at Tyananna with interest. They had no idea she went to see the Jedi on her own, let along that she lost her temper and tried to strangle him. They found this very amusing and intended to tease her about it the first chance they got.

"However," the Dark Lord said, "This would have been a good exercise for you to work on your patience. Would be, I say, if we were not leaving soon."

He looked up to the darkening skies and breathed a thick cloud of smoke, his eyes narrowing under the hood.

"Tomorrow," he said, "the three of you shall go with me to see the general and our army. I must speak to them and I want you to be there. Sad'khai and your weapons, my apprentices. The time of pretence and walking in the shadows is now over. Whatever it brings us, the Sith must come out in the open."

"War is something that is very familiar to a Sith," he went on. "We see it every day; we wage battles with our minds and our bodies every day. We fight and eventually we prevail. War is in the nature of the Sith; but it is also in the nature of all nations of Horukaan, more or less. To deny it would mean to deny an aspect of oneself, which is a mistake right from the beginning, as you have learned very early in your work with the Dark side. So many try to ignore their nature and they do not see that it always blows up in their face."

"Do not regret leaving the Temple," he said after a pause.

He handed a fistful of tobacco to Tammutyen, who had at some point run out of it but did not dare to get up and was eyeing his pipe with yearning.

"One day, my apprentices, we shall have a great Sith Temple; the greatest ever built, erected in the glory of the power of the Dark side. And in the courtyard we shall erect a monument to all discarnate Sith, for their names to be written down somewhere where other pairs of eyes can see them, and not only ours. But we do not need the Temple to remind us who we are; we all carry the Black Flame in us and the power of Darkness is always with us."

He lifted his goblet and looked round at the serious faces which surrounded him.

"To the Dark side," he said simply.

The three Sith repeated the toast and drank together with him. Once Tyananna felt fear when she thought about the oncoming war. Now, however, all she could feel was excitement.


	46. Chapter 45 - Part Four

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I write because I can't help myself. :)

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

PARS IV

CAP. XLV – Osgath and Enthann

Nights were there for Tyananna to sleep, to rest after her hard work with the Dark side and her trainings, and they were something she always looked forward to. But this night was not one of those nights. This night was unusual, beginning with the fact that Tyananna was not sound asleep, even though it was very late.

The position in which she slept normally depended on the fact which parts of her body were sore. If she had pains in her back, she would sleep on her back. If she had just vomited after her running, she would be sleeping on her side, still trying to process the little bit of herbal tea she swallowed before going to bed. If she could not sleep due to throbbing in her legs what made them twitch every now and then and turned every effort of falling asleep into an impossible task, she would lie on her stomach, sink into the Dark side and try to ignore it.

That night every torch and candle were burning in the Sith Temple and no one slept. Peetah was running up and down the corridor, carrying clothes and items the Sith requested, her face glowing with tears. She was on the edge, to put it mildly.

"Spare sad'khai," Tyananna requested as Peetah skidded to a halt beside her.

Peetah extended a black pile toward her and dropped it. She yelped, bending down to retrieve it, only to find that she had given her Lady Tarralyanna's clothes. Breathlessly she rummaged through the pile of clothes she was carrying and managed to find Tyananna's. The Sith stuffed the clothes unceremoniously into the saddlebag, together with her spare boots, and looked up.

"Good, that is clothes," she said. "Now remedies, Peetah."

"Pentoh has them," Peetah said tearfully. "He is packing them in smaller jars and tubes so that they would be easier to carry, miss Tyananna."

"Oh," Tyananna said, straightening up and glancing around the room. "All right. Let him bring them round as soon as he is done."

"Yes, of course," Peetah said, wiping her face with her apron. "What else do you need?"

"Has Pentoh made enough healing paste for all of us?" she asked.

The Malaskian nodded quickly and sniffed.

"Well, then, that would that," Tyananna said and shrugged.

"You will not take your jewellery and your circlet with you?" Peetah asked, glancing toward the boxes which rested on Tyananna's dressing table.

"Oh, no," Tyananna laughed. "We are going to war and such things will merely fill up the space I could use for something else. You keep them safe."

Her pondering was cut short by a sob coming from Peetah's direction. The Malaskian covered her face and backed away, perhaps fearing punishment for such an emotional outburst, but Tyananna's expression softened as she realised what was on her mind.

"We will come back, Peetah," she said to the old woman. "Just do what you normally do and keep the Temple clean."

Peetah nodded, wiping her face and sniffing. One of these days I will get her a handkerchief, Tyananna thought.

"Do not worry, Miss Tyananna," she muttered. "Pentoh and I shall keep the Temple all clean and shining while you are away."

"And my room," Tyananna cut in, knowing there was only one thing that could occupy the old woman so that she would not worry and cry herself to sleep. "I hate spiders and all those nasty crawling creatures. When I come back, I do not want to see a single spider or a cockroach in my room!"

"No, miss!" Peetah said at once, straightening up. "I shall kill all the spiders which dare to venture into your chambers!"

"You do that," Tyananna said, putting her saddlebag aside.

At that moment there was a shriek from the courtyard and Tyananna looked up, lifting an eyebrow. Peetah gave a watery smile.

"Pentoh is getting more blood for Lord Tammutyen," she said. "HE ordered him to do so."

Of course Tyananna knew at once that Peetah meant the Dark Lord when she said 'he'.

"Have you been to his study lately?" Tyananna asked, putting her clothes on.

"He calls," Peetah said quietly. "He wants coffee and food... but mostly, miss, he wants tobacco."

"Has he ever sent you down to the City, to deliver a message or something of the sort?" Tyananna asked. How come she never got around asking her that, she did not know, but now she was curious.

"Oh, no," Peetah said readily. "He does not want us to leave the Temple, Pentoh and I. We send someone down, to walk down to the City."

"When does he go to bed, then, my Master?" Tyananna asked on, hoping that Peetah would not get too scared talking about him and stop answering her questions.

"I not see him go," Peetah said nervously. Now she started confusing grammar and word order, Tyananna observed, as she always did when she was nervous. "He awake when I leave him and he awake when I come early in the morning to clean. Much ash, pipe-ash... and thick smoke in the room, like fog, miss Tyananna."

"So he probably spends the night in his study," Tyananna muttered, thinking about this. Was the Dark Lord sleeping at all? By the sound of it, no.

Peetah wanted to add something, but she bit her lip. Tyananna caught the cue and decided she asked enough questions. She could understand that Peetah was scared stiff of the Dark Lord. Tyananna approached the window and looked toward the Dark Lord's Tower. It was veiled in darkness. She furrowed her brow, not understanding this. She thought that he would be there until the last minute, collecting his plans and sketches, but he seemed to be out. Out, where exactly?

"Well, that is it," Tyananna said as soon as Pentoh arrived with an armful of ointments. "I suppose I should go down to the courtyard. I wonder where Tarra is?"

She swept over the Temple with the Dark side, pausing a little over the Dark Lord's Tower. She knew that she should not bother him, but she was curious. He was not there at all. But Lady Tarralyanna was moving toward the entrance hall, carrying her own saddlebag and angrily muttering to herself. Lord Tammutyen was already sitting in the courtyard and smoking, looking up as he felt Tyananna's presence beside him. Tyananna smiled, picked up her saddlebag and flung it over her shoulder, picking up her M'Hoor with her other hand.

"The horses are ready, miss Tyananna," Pentoh said, while Peetah stood aside.

Tyananna nodded and left her chambers with him, leaving Peetah behind. As they swept around the corner, Tyananna was certain she heard a loud sob from her chambers.

"I need to saddle them yet, but they are all groomed, fed and watered."

Tyananna said nothing, walking down the corridor with the saddlebag over her shoulder. She glanced over the silent black curtains of the Temple, the swords with shining blades, the magnificent chandeliers and drank in that familiar scent which always seemed to be present everywhere in the Temple. This was her home and was going to miss it. She left her old home, the Jedi Temple, and had to get used to this one. And just as she did, she had to leave this one as well.

She had trained and worked all these years and this war was the ultimate test for all the abilities and skills she acquired over the years. This was the time for Tyananna to show the world who she really was. And she felt grateful she would not have to pretend she was something she was not.

Coming out on the main entrance, she turned around to look back toward the Dark Lord's Tower. The fire of Yyllen burned on its top as always, its long, black tongues licking the silver torch it occupied. The windows of the Temple, as many of them as there were, were for the first time in complete darkness. This was the beginning of the end, she thought.

"Tiya," Lady Tarralyanna called to her, who had just sat down beside Tammutyen.

"Are you ready?" she asked as soon as Tyananna was close enough.

Tyananna nodded, noting that Lord Tammutyen was being uncharacteristically silent. But she knew him too well to suppose that he was worried. He was probably going over combat techniques in his mind and wondering whether he packed enough daggers.

Tyananna looked up toward the sky and sighed. All three moons were visible that night and the sky was not as dark as it normally was. She had never sat outside the Temple at this hour and she felt as though she saw it for the first time. Certainly it was beautiful in daytime but now it was even more beautiful. Tyananna came to the conclusion that since she began working with the Dark side her preferences and what she considered beautiful drastically changed. Never before had she perceived daylight as garish and obtrusive and saw beauty in the night and strange sounds coming from the mountains beyond the Temple.

The three of them sat in silence for a long time, broken by puffs coming from Lord Tammutyen's direction, who was smoking his pipe. At some point they felt a mighty swoop of wings and looked up. Tyananna saw with the corner of her eye a flying shadow which disappeared somewhere behind the Tower. Ten minutes later, they saw the Dark Lord coming out with Peetah and Pentoh skipping behind him. He was giving them orders and they listened with their heads bowed, nodding.

The three got to their feet as Pentoh ran toward the stables to fetch their horses, and Peetah disappeared once again in the Temple, not to be in the way.

"My apprentices," they heard the deep voice of the Dark Lord. "Rise."

The Dark Lord was wearing his sad'khai and his boots looked clean and polished, as though he had just put them on. But they could tell at once that he had been travelling. There was an unmistakable dragon scent hovering around him. His noble, inhuman features were frozen in an mask-alike expression as he glanced over his apprentices and nodded. Tyananna noted he was carrying his Sith weapon, the Mer'Tah, and that he was dressed exactly as they were. With one tiny exception. There was a line of Sith glyphs running along the rim of his cloak, which she quickly read: "_I am he who is not"._ She racked her brains trying to remember why this was so familiar, but soon Pentoh appeared with the horses and her pondering was cut short.

"It is time," The Dark Lord said simply as he turned toward the horses.

His own horse managed to wrench himself away from Pentoh's grip and trotted eagerly toward the Dark Lord. With one excited blow he pressed the snout against the Dark Lord's chest, who rubbed it and whispered to the horse in Sith. Clearly the horse was very attached to his master and Tyananna no longer felt ashamed of the little statue of her Nan'Tha she left in her chambers and her own fondness for her horse.

Tyananna grasped the reins of her horse with gratitude, since Nan'Tha seemed to be the only familiar thing she was going to take with her. She mounted him in the only way the Sith horses could be mounted – one had to jump in the saddle.

She noted that Pentoh strapped a fur blanket over the saddle and thought it was very considerate of him, since they were going to spend a lot of time in the saddle. Nan'Tha, along with the other horses the Sith rode, wore no curbs. They were all excellently trained and needed none. However, as Pentoh once told Tyananna, these horses would never settle in for a curb, even if he tried to put one on. They were proud creatures, which knew their quality and could have only one master, to whom they were absolutely loyal. Therefore the reins Tyananna was holding merely went around Nan'Tha's snout, but Tyananna was pretty certain she could ride him without the reins as well.

Nan'Tha eagerly followed Lady Tarralyanna's horse through the gate, nodding with his beautiful, black head, his legs twitching as though he was eager to gallop. However, he obediently followed the other horses down the path leading to the City.

They descended down into the City and rode around it and not through it. Tyananna could not see where they were going at first and was beginning to wonder. But now that they environed the tall houses at the side of the City, she could see very well where they were going.

Hundreds and hundreds of torches were burning in the valley before the City, transforming the valley into something Tyananna was not going to easily forget. The Gotan soldiers stood silent and waiting as they spotted the four of them, holding the torches in their hands. Now they knew the truth at last about who their King really was and they also knew that the three were not his children.

The general, who was wearing armour with the Gotan crest gleaming on his breastplate, rode out to meet with the King, leaving the commanders behind. They watched him go and tried not to stare at the King. They felt that the history was about to repeat itself, but they were grateful that they were at least standing on the right side this time. They were pretty certain the Dark Lord would succeed in what he intended to do, once they realised he had allies all over the world, and although they were scared to death of going to war, they knew that he would win.

"My Lord," the nervous Korrugen started, but the Dark Lord waved a commanding hand.

He pointed over his shoulder at the commanders and beckoned to them. The general furrowed his brow, wondering what the King wanted to with them. Giving command of the troops had been the subject of speculation and talk for weeks. For the King did not choose the old, experienced soldiers, but rather the young and inexperienced ones. The general would rather call them scoundrels than soldiers and he had absolutely no idea what made the King choose them. However, the King explained to him that he wanted absolute loyalty and not skill and that these young men were certainly more than willing to prove themselves in battle and that their inexperience was an advantage and not a disadvantage. They had been hand-picked by the King himself and thus the King was certain they would follow his orders without questions. Korrugen still did not understand completely, but at least he got an explanation, even though it was not helpful.

The Dark Lord gave a short speech, as they expected him to, but what he said was not exactly what they expected. He praised the general for his good work (what good work, the general asked himself as he listened?) and told his soldiers that they were the best soldiers the Kingdom of Gotan had. Poor general Korrugen, who was barely sleeping due to stress, stared at him with his mouth hanging open and not believing his ears. After weeks and weeks of trying to organise the army according to the Dark Lord's orders and enduring the questions and accusations of his soldiers, his praise seemed almost surreal. The soldiers, along with the general, were now convinced that he somehow used the Force to give them all unnatural abilities and they were all certain they were going to win the war.

"You shall follow me as we ride through the Kingdom," the King said in a clear voice.

As the soldiers repeated his words, which in that way reached the last lines of the army, the general opened his mouth to say that he wanted to ride ahead of the King and to send scouts. The King however, seemed to know what he was going to say beforehand and waved a hand.

"I am leading you to war," he said, his cloak billowing in the wind. "I am the leader of this army and therefore I shall lead it."

"As I was saying, so it will be until we cross the border of my Kingdom. I will ride first, with my apprentices following me closely," he went on, pointing over his shoulder at the silent trio. "Then comes the army, which will be riding in threes. We shall be taking the road thorough Enthann; and I do not want to lose anyone. When I stop, everyone stops. Is everything clear?"

"Yes, my Lord," the general said quickly, knowing that there was no point in trying to argue with the Dark Lord.

This is not right, for him to be riding at the head, he kept thinking to himself as he turned his horse and rode back toward the waiting army. To Tyananna the army of Gotan looked like a vast sea of heads, torches and banners, which however began to move as the Dark Lord's orders reached the last batallion.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Tyananna had never taken this road through Gotan before. It was so because the army had to pass through the part of Gotan which was the easiest to travel through, unlike when one was riding alone. They were going to follow the broad path which all merchants, shepherds and travellers used, but at some point they were going to leave the road and ride through Enthann.

Soon a faint blush in the east heralded the rise of Cyrron and the outlines of the mountains and trees were getting sharper. As they rode across a valley which was surrounded with cliffs, the pounding of thousands and thousands of hooves made it sound like as though all hell broke loose. Tyananna was riding between Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna, who did not seem to be in a conversational mode. They rode in silence for hours and Tyananna felt grateful for that, because she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Lord Tammutyen was smoking his pipe and Lady Tarralyanna was exploring her surroundings with the Dark side, though she felt forced to stop as she felt a powerful sweep coming from the direction of the Dark Lord. She had no idea what he was doing and she did not want to disturb him.

After endless zigzagging through the mountain ranges they finally emerged on a flat rocky plateau. Tyananna thought she saw a strange white shape in the distance and narrowed her eyes underneath the hood.

"The teeth of Osgath," Lady Tarralyanna said in a low, excited voice. "Tammu?"

She turned to Lord Tammutyen, who was staring in the direction of the white shape. Lady Tarralyanna wanted to know whether he knew any legends about it, of course.

"The old Gotan legend says," he said, turning his head so that the two could hear him, "that a young Gotan shepherd once saved his tribe from a terrible beast called Osgath and that he killed him with a dagger. While everyone fled deeper into the mountains, the young shepherd wanted to save his sheep and stumbled across the beast. The beast had just mauled several of his sheep and the shepherd threw himself at it. He was too young to be afraid and he only wanted to save what was left of his sheep. He thrust the dagger in the throat of the beast, but the beast devoured it. Together they fell off a cliff and the impact with the ground broke all of Osgath's teeth, which scattered across the valley. The strange rocks we see have been named after the beast, the teeth of Osgath."

Tyananna soon spotted the same white shapes she saw in the distance. They were actually two sharp, tall pieces of rock, which were indeed shaped as teeth. There was no way they could know whether the legend was true or not, but the rocks certainly justified the name given to the valley. As they rode on, she could see such rocks just about everywhere. Yes, they looked like teeth, but the whole valley reminded Tyananna of a graveyard.

They crossed the valley of Osgath rather quickly and Tyananna spotted a large forest right in front of her. The Dark Lord turned in his saddle, lifting a hand in the air.

"CAMP!" the Dark Lord roared. The general relaxed in his saddle. They had been riding for eight hours without respite and he was already beginning to wonder whether they just might ride the whole day long.

"We can sit over there, by those conifers," said the Dark Lord to the three Sith. "To offer us a little shade."

The three half expected him to go wandering in the woods and leave them to themselves, but this ascertained them he wanted to talk to them. They unsaddled their horses and they immediately started looking for food. The black horses, because of their size, tended to eat a lot and they seemed rather disappointed with the menu. Tyananna saw, as she was pulling her lunch from her saddlebag, Nan'Tha disappear in the little thicket on the other side of the valley and supposed that he found some grass worth eating there.

To their surprise, the Dark Lord threw a handful of dry twigs on the ground and pulled a kettle from his own saddlebag. They watched him point his finger at the twigs, which ignited at once. He smirked at them.

"We would like some coffee, would we not?" he said matter-of-factly.

Lady Tarralyanna smiled broadly at him and Lord Tammutyen grinned, pulling one of his jars open and taking an eager sniff at the liquid which occupied it.

Once he organised the camp, the general glanced around the valley, looking for the Dark Lord. He was sitting in the shade and on the ground with his students and was obviously cooking something. He straightened up, not believing his eyes. Now he was distributing something he poured from the kettle among them. But what was the strangest of all, he was sitting on the ground with his legs miraculously folded underneath him, like a common soldier, eating food he obviously brought with him along with his apprentices. AND he seemed to be pleasantly chatting with them.

The general shook his head and went back to his own fire. Apparently he did not know the King of Gotan very well at all.

"Do you know, my apprentices, who invented the sad'khai?" the Dark Lord asked all of a sudden.

Tyananna lifted her head. She never thought about it.

"The first sad'khai was made of rags," the Dark Lord went on. "The first Sith who had worn it was a very poor man, and, as he was in need of clothes, he made a shirt by combining many rags together.

He also made several pockets he used for different things. Of course, with time the sad'khai changed its appearance a little and was painted black, but the original idea remained."

"Who was he, Master?" asked Lady Tarralyanna. "The Sith who invented the sad'khai?"

"He was the same Dark Lord of the First Age, who was a scholar and who lived in solitude and isolation. It took me many years to retrieve his scriptures and writings, but the knowledge itself, his theories and his calculation methods, were passed on to me by my own master."

"And look where we stand now," the Dark Lord went on thoughtfully, taking a sip from his metallic cup and glancing over the sea of soldiers who were sitting in groups and eating. Tyananna also noticed that they kept glancing in their direction.

"We carry the banner of Darkness proudly," the Dark Lord said. "We shall bring a new era to the Sith Order and we shall never again need to hide, skulk around like animals, being hunted down because of the side of the Force we use, because of who we are. Never again shall we be prosecuted."

oooooooooooooooooooo

The road led them toward something that was supposed to be a forest, but what more looked like a mass of gnarled roots and branches to Tyananna. The Dark Lord paused by the narrow path which led inside.

"The forest of Enthann," he told his apprentices. "It is the dwelling place of birds of prey which pluck out the eyes of unwary travellers; of worms which are so large they are capable of eating one alive, if he strays away and falls asleep in the forest; and of reptiles which live in muddy ponds in the heart of the forest, whose teeth are as large as your heads. We are going through it, because it is the quickest way to the border. The path is easy to follow; but far from not dangerous. Thus I shall ask you, my apprentices, to keep your Force eyes open, to destroy any bit of threat that might arise and to protect the army. I shall be riding at the head, as before."

"We understand, Master," Lord Tammutyen said, readily taking down his Ptah and giving it a wave.

Tammutyen was a Sith of action; and the mention of killing and fighting always made his eyes twinkle. Tyananna could already recognise the symptoms and the sheer sight of him being so excited made her smile.

The Dark Lord nodded at them as they took down their weapons and turned to the general and his commanders, who were eyeing the forest with anxiety they were trying to hide. Tyananna's Nan'Tha was eyeing the forest with an air of suspicion as well – he was not a cowardly horse, but he neither liked the smell, nor the sight of it. However, as Tyananna now swept with the Dark side over the forest, he lifted his head and gave an excited blow through his nose. He loved when she did that, whatever it was.

"I and my apprentices shall protect you," the Dark Lord yelled to his army, who were all listening very attentively. "Ride in a tight line, one after another, and stop for nothing. Do not break out of ranks!"

"My Lord, what lives in there?" the general asked, unsheathing his sword. Of course he heard the legends about it, but he was pretty certain that the Dark Lord knew precisely what lived in the forest.

"Plenty of danger, Korrugen," the Dark Lord said with a smile directed at him, turning his horse around. "That is why I and my apprentices are here."

As he entered the forest, Tyananna felt a mighty sweep of the Dark side coming from him, extending in all directions and she went in following Lady Tarralyanna, clutching her M'Hoor in her hands. The forest was so thick and the trees were so pressed so tightly against each other, that it was almost pitch dark inside. But looking ahead, Tyananna could see her Master holding something up, which spread penetrating, ghostly blue light. She abruptly ceased wondering what it might be as she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. She opened herself to the Dark side and skimmed with her senses over her surroundings. She could see the army dragging behind them like a gigantic snake, keeping very close to each other. All around her she could feel movement and eyes watching her through the branches.

So they rode for almost half an hour in silence and nothing seemed to happen, even though Tyananna could feel eyes staring at her. Her horse trotted obediently after Lady Tarralyanna's, with his ears swivelling in all directions and his eyes wide open. Tyananna knew that Nan'Tha was ready to bolt at any sign of danger.

The general jumped and twitched at any strange sound coming from the forest and was riding with his sword at ready, constantly turning his head. The soldiers ignited torches which seemed to at least temporarily scare the inhabitants of the forest away, but Tyananna was pretty certain that something like fire would not stop them.

Suddenly there was a sign of movement among the trees and Tyananna's Force senses immediately located the source of the commotion. The following moment there was a deafening sound of flapping wings, accompanied by wild screeches and Tyananna jumped, swinging with her sword. The Dark Lord was riding steadily onward, a ploughing hand of Darkness. The birds seemed to be far more interested in the soldiers and the army, than in the four Sith.

Killing birds of prey was not hard at all, though Tyananna thought they were pretty large and unexpectedly quick for birds. She stabbed three of them in the air and landed beside one of the soldiers with her sword on ready, only to jump aside to avoid Lady Tarralyanna's Force Lightning, which she directed at several birds. The silver sparks turned the birds instantly to ash and Tyananna got rid of the few which remained behind. Lord Tammutyen was somewhere at the back, and judging by the shrieks that reached them, he was enjoying himself immensely. Lady Tarralyanna turned to Tyananna and nodded, who spun her bloody sword and grinned. Their work seemed to be done.

Lord Tammutyen reappeared several minutes later, carrying a headless bird of prey over his shoulder.

"Food," he mouthed to Tyananna, grinning nastily.

Tyananna glanced over the bloody bird with disgust. She knew that Lord Tammutyen preferred his food a little bloody, but this was a bit too much. Lady Tarralyanna shook her head and jumped back into the saddle.

"I would not eat that if I were you, Lord Tammutyen," said a deep voice from up ahead.

Lord Tammutyen looked up, furrowing his brow.

"Their blood is namely poisonous," the Dark Lord added with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Tammutyen threw the bird away with a curse in Sith, which flew well over the soldiers' heads and landed somewhere in the depths of the forest. Lady Tarralyanna smiled smugly at him, directing a 'I told you so' glance at him and spurred her horse after the Dark Lord.

ooooooooooooooooooo

As they rode on the only thing the soldiers could talk about were the Sith. They had never seen them in battle and what they had seen convinced them they would win the war. They knew of course what the Jedi were capable of, but this, in their opinion, seemed to surpass it. They remembered the legends which stated that the Dark Lord of the Second Age used to kill with thunders of lightning and now they connected the dots. Those were facts and not legends. The Dark Lord seemed to have absolute confidence in his apprentices and did not comment or seem surprised with what they just did.

They encountered a few gigantic lizards with large, yellow eyes which the three Sith, laughing and obviously enjoying themselves, fought off by simply waving their hands at them and strangling them with the Force. As they finally left the forest and emerged into daylight, their conversations in Sith had become louder and it seemed as though they thoroughly enjoyed their trip through the forest of Enthann. The Dark Lord finally stopped after what seemed like eternity and said they would spend the night there. It was very late and according to the general's standards it was already night. However, he figured that the Dark Lord wished to avoid travelling during early Cyrron hours and thus the general ordered the soldiers to settle down for the night.

The Dark Lord disappeared in the tent he erected with a few waves of his hand and did not come out after that. The three Sith, however, made a small camp fire and sat around it. Lord Tammutyen got to his feet as soon as the fire was set up, took his sword and disappeared in the bushes, followed by the soldiers' glances of admiration. Lord Tammutyen, according to their standards, was the only one who really looked like a warrior, but what they had seen in the forest ascertained them that appearance among the Sith meant absolutely nothing. The broad-shouldered Sith emerged from the thicket shortly afterwards, carrying a large dead snake over his shoulder which was dripping with blood and a heavy water skin, which he had obviously refilled somewhere. The soldiers, who had no idea there was a stream in the vicinity, quickly headed in the direction from which he came as soon as he sat down beside the two princesses. The soldiers who remained behind saw him skin the snake and eat it raw, blood trickling down his chin which he did not bother to wipe. He also seemed to have brought something for the princesses, because they opened a sack he gave them and started pulling something brown from it and tossing it into the cauldron.

Soon a very strange scent began to spread through the valley and everyone concluded that whatever they were cooking, it was quite hideous. As it were, those were Tarralyanna's favourite mushrooms, for which Tyananna had developed a liking as well, and the two of them enjoyed a mushroom stew. Having eaten their simple meal, they started to smoke. No one knew what they were talking about, but it so seemed that they were retelling anecdotes to each other because one of them would speak and the other two would laugh. Lord Tammutyen was smoking a long pipe and seemed very relaxed, whereas Tyananna, whose red hair was falling over her face, spoke quickly in Sith and gesticulated.

However, at some point there was a shout from the black tent where the Dark Lord slept – it was not a word anyone understood, but it had an immediate effect on the three. They jumped, threw the remnants of the tobacco in the fire and poured water over it, after what they disappeared in their tent.

They all slept side by side, with Tyananna in the middle. She listened to Lord Tammutyen's growling as he was settling down to sleep and chuckled when she noted he fell asleep within seconds, lying on his back, hands crossed on his chest. It was impossible to tell whether he was asleep or dead, because his heart, which did not beat normally anyway, would slow down drastically while he was asleep. Tyananna closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink into the cradle of the Dark side, quickly falling asleep as well. The sooner, the better, because Lord Tammutyen tended to snore. Lady Tarralyanna remained awake for a while more, but she too managed to fall asleep rather quickly.

oooooooooooooooooo

Their ride toward the border was quite uneventful, if one would exclude the Sith's little games. They would throw some strange metallic objects, which looked like weapons, at each other, but they flew back and forth between the three of them so fast they were a blur. The general concluded after a while that this was no game, but rather an exercise, which they used to pass the time.

He also noted that once they stopped, the three of them would pull out their weapons and disappear, along with the Dark Lord. Remembering what he saw a long time ago on the meadow beyond the City, he concluded that they were practising. But no man in the right mind would try to spy on them and see what was it that they were actually doing, as long as the Dark Lord was with them.

At last a magnificent white stone bridge, supported by strong piers, loomed up in sight. It lead across one of the wild mountain rivers which eventually joined the Aalyan river and the three Sith had never seen it before. They stared at it, exchanging muttered comments, until the Dark Lord stopped sheer before the bridge and turned to them.

"My predecessor, King Narik's father, had built it during his rule," he said, glancing over it with a smile on his face. "It was a very hard task, but I daresay he managed it just fine. The bridge is the work of dozens of architects and many thousand workers. What do you say, Lady Tarralyanna?"

"He seemed to believe that the river would get wilder and bigger with time," she observed, narrowing her eyes and glancing over the fine lines of the bridge.

Tyananna snorted. Typical Tarralyanna, she thought. Such a magnificent thing and she could find a fault in it!

"He built too many piers and they are very thick, thicker than they should be. That is how I came to that conclusion," Lady Tarralyanna added.

"Indeed," the Dark Lord said with a laugh.

The general had just arrived behind them and stopped, propping himself against his knee and glancing over the bridge with melancholy. The line of kings was broken with King Narik, since he had no successors. However, King Narik grew fond of the strange youngster who wandered into his Kingdom. With time he became his helper and assistant and on his deathbed, King Narik proclaimed him his heir and the successor to the Gotan throne. The same strange youngster was the Dark Lord. What made the king entrust his Kingdom to him, the general would never know. But there must had been something about the young man that appealed to King Narik. He saw his abilities as a ruler and he regarded him as a man of a very strong character. He was not wrong there. But he doubted that what was now happening would be approved by the late King Narik. He must be turning in his grave, the general thought sadly.

Tyananna glanced over the angry, brown river which thrashed with ferocity against the piers and she had to admit that perhaps King Narik's father had a point. If such a river would grow twice as large, there would be hell to pay. Perhaps the such a strong, well-built bridge was not such a bad idea after all. It seemed that in its descent from the mountain ranges the river also pulled out a few trees with the roots, as she saw several of them floating in the muddy water and quickly disappearing out of sight.

The bridge had been built on the break of the Third Age. It was a time when all rulers and kings started reconstructing and fortifying their Kingdoms and Empires. But it also seemed as though the bridge had been built for the Gotan soldiers, for them to be able to cross the river and arrive to border, in case the Kingdom ever got invaded and had to be defended. However, the Kingdom could get invaded in the same way.

They crossed the bridge and rode across a few hills which marked the border of the Kingdom of Gotan. When they finally climbed the last one, the Dark Lord stopped and glanced over the vastness of green which stretched due south and seemed to have no end.

"The Land of the free men of Janipon," the Dark Lord said. "Outlaws, thieves, ruffians, vagabonds – nothing interests them, except for lust and pleasure. Nothing commands them, but avarice and the carnal urges."

Janipons were mostly Albinians, but everyone who looked for a place to hide was welcome here. In the early days of their Master's rule, the Janipons tried to break into the Kingdom, something King Narik fought against in his own time. However, the Dark Lord's soldiers slaughtered about a hundred of them as he ordered, cut their heads off and scattered the remains of their bodies all over one of their villages during night. It was a very clear message which the free men of Janipon understood. Since then they did not try to step over the Gotan border. They had no ruler, as the Dark Lord said. Instead they travelled in packs and pillaged, fighting among themselves and robbing stray travellers who were unfortunate or stupid enough to venture into their domain.

"I daresay our brave chief Growthak shall take pleasure in hunting them down," the Dark Lord said, smiling broadly at his apprentices. He nodded at the general, who was staring at him, since the Dark Lord was speaking Sith and he did not understand a word he just said.

"We shall wait for Chief Growthak here – he should be here by nightfall," he told the general, who nodded.

"Camp!" the general roared, turning toward the soldiers.

The Dark Lord turned to the three Sith.

"What have you observed concerning our army, my apprentices?" Dark Lord asked them.

"Our journey through the forest of Enthann has been very fruitful," Lord Tammutyen spoke first. "They have seen what we can do – and they are certain we shall win this war."

"Tammutyen is right," Lady Tarralyanna joined in. "But may I ask a question? Have you used the Dark side on the commanders, my Master?"

The Dark Lord smirked and nodded.

"Young, unspoiled minds are easy to manipulate," he said quietly. "Oh, yes. It had to be done. I could leave nothing to chance. They had to be loyal to me and I knew that as long as the matter involved human, treacherous minds, one could never be certain of anything. I have done this gradually and patiently. They have felt nothing."

Of course, Tyananna was familiar with the technique as it was done with the light side, but she was not certain what he meant when he said that he had worked gradually. Was it possible to influence someone's consciousness over a longer time period? It was obvious what the Dark Lord accomplished with this – a very lasting, if not permanent, effect. It meant taking away someone's freedom of thought and basically telling him what to do and how to behave. What the Jedi did was to use this ability in order to help people and it only worked for a short period of time. But they never tried to influence people in order to get what they wanted. Whereas this was... highly useful, Tyananna decided. That way he could be sure that his commanders would obey him.

The Dark Lord turned away from them and glanced over the seemingly endless valley.

"We have some time on our hands," he said, dismounting his horse. "We must use it well."

The Sith understood at once what he wanted to say with this – training. They set off to look for a good spot to make a camp, away from the army, which proved to be exceedingly difficult since there were so many soldiers and since they were no longer surrounded with mountains. Once they found such an isolated spot, the Dark Lord left them to it and disappeared.

The three horses settled down on the grass away from the three Sith, lazily chewing long green blades and enjoying the abundance they suddenly found themselves surrounded with, groggily following the Sith with their glances as they moved about. The general, who left the camp with several of his commanders in order to have a walk and talk to them about war plans, suddenly heard clanks of metal coming from one of the small valleys surrounded by hills. Cautiously he approached the valley, as his first thought was that the Janipons had somehow found out what was going on and were getting ready for an attack.

But there were no free men in sight. Instead he saw the familiar black horses lounging around and weaving with their tails, reminding the general of faithful dogs who always wanted to be in the vicinity of their masters. Lady Tarralyanna was leaning against a tree trunk and laughing at the other two. The general winced as he noticed that she was standing on one foot and that her other foot was a few inches away from her head. Lord Tammutyen was standing bare from waist up and was explaining something to Tyananna, wildly gesticulating. The red-haired Sith nodded, giving her sword an impatient spin.

In the middle of the sentence Lord Tammutyen threw himself at her and the general opened his mouth to warn her, thinking she was done for. At the same moment she jumped aside to avoid his sword and then over his head, landing safely on the other side and immediately pointing her sword at his naked back. Lord Tammutyen turned and nodded at her.

The general breathed with relief. Obviously they were practising combat skills and as the shock wore off, he began to wonder whether he was supposed to be there at all. They moved so far away from the army for a reason. However, now that everyone knew who they really were, he did not see the whole point of secrecy. Maybe they just needed more space?

The commanders, however, were staring at Lord Tammutyen's bare chest their mouths hanging open. His chest and his arms were covered in tattoos and yet even they could not hide a large scar at the level of his heart, which looked as though someone had once ripped his heart out. To them he looked like a statue of a Droddian war deity, chiselled out in stone.

The general watched Lady Tarralyanna practise with the serrated discs he already saw them use while Lord Tammutyen and Tyananna continued to practise evading manoeuvres. At some point Lord Tammutyen turned away from her and Tyananna sat drinking water for a while. Next followed a strange and quick duel between the two princesses, who were duelling so fast the general felt dizzy watching them. At some point Lady Tarralyanna disappeared into thin air and Tyananna stood panting with her sword in her hands, angrily calling to her. The general blinked. The following moment, Tyananna also disappeared. The general frantically searched for them with his glance, but the only one he could see was Lord Tammutyen, who stood grinning and shaking his head. As he next blinked, the two princesses reappeared at last two hundred yards away from the position he last saw them and were wrestling on the ground. Tyananna had her hands around Lady Tarralyanna's throat and was obviously trying to strangle her. Lord Tammutyen laughed so loudly and unexpectedly that the general jumped. The following moment the two princesses also burst into laughter.

Lord Tammutyen shook his head, took his weapon and turned to look in the general's direction, who froze. He waved at him and grinned and the general meekly waved back, not knowing what else to do. Apparently he did not mind them being there, so he supposed he should sit down. He nodded at the pale commanders and sat down, pulling out his pipe. The commanders followed his example and sat down on the grass, though they felt it was wrong to sit here and stare at the prince and the princesses. However, they were beside themselves with curiosity. They watched Lord Tammutyen practise with his sword for a while and the two princesses swapping positions while wrestling, obviously trying out new moves and ways how to free themselves in case they ever managed to get pinned to the ground.

In one moment they suddenly stopped with what they were doing and bowed in the direction of the general and the commanders, who froze on the spot.

"You would do well, Korrugen," a deep voice said behind his back, "to practise combat skills yourself."

The general jumped and bowed to the Dark Lord, who seemed to have appeared out of thin air right behind him. But having seen the princesses do that, he supposed it was nothing out of the ordinary for the Sith.

"However," the Dark Lord went on, marching past them and heading in the direction of the three Sith, his strange weapon clanking audibly as he walked, "you have no more time, alas. Chief Growthak will be here in less than two hours and you should summon the army."

The last thing he saw before he turned and retraced his steps back to the camp was the Dark Lord pointing a finger at the serrated discs which flew right into his outstretched hand.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Fully clothed and looking quite ready to ride on, the four Sith appeared on horseback before the army just as a thin black line started showing in the west. The Gotan army stood still, waiting as the outlines of horses and warriors grew sharper and sharper. Soon the pounding of thousands of hooves made the ground tremble and general Korrugen straightened up in his saddle.

The animals looked exhausted and were bathing in sweat and foam, but the Droddians of Gangar seemed to be in the mood for battle. At the head of the long procession rode Chief Growthak, whose eyes quickly skimmed over the Gotan army until he spotted the Dark Lord. He lifted a hand in the air commandingly and his warriors stopped, whereas he rode ahead to meet with the Dark Lord. He jumped out of the saddle with a movement of an agile man and lowered himself to his one knee before the Dark Lord's horse. His thin lips spread into a small smile under the hood and he nodded at him. The warriors of Gangar stared at their Chief. The fact that he knelt in front of the Dark Lord meant he considered him a great warrior and was expressing his respect in that way. If their Chief respected him that much, his respect had to be justified, they decided.

"You are early, my friend," the Dark Lord said. "Rise."

Chief Growthak got to his feet and fixed his glance upon the Dark Lord. At the same time, the both of them grinned at each other.

"My warriors and I are ready for the war, my Lord," he said, pressing his fist against his chest in a typical Droddian salute.

"I would never expect less of you," the Dark Lord answered in Droddian.

"You know what you have to do," the Dark Lord said, nodding sharply at him and pointing a commanding finger at the green vastness beyond the hills.

There was something very impressive about this gesture, Tyananna thought, who was watching everything with a lump in her throat. Here she was, partaking in the events that would go into the pages of history; and it seemed that no effort, however great, would be great enough, coming from her. She wished to show her Master that she was worthy of his trust and of this apprenticeship – and the desire to do so was sometimes greater than her own abilities, it seemed. It was burning within her like the Black Flame itself.

"Rest here for the night," the Dark Lord said. "In the morning, ride to war, and bring down this land of vagabonds. We shall meet at the Canyon of Hosgor; wait for me there."

"Yes, my Lord," Chief Growthak said.

The Dark Lord suddenly extended his hand down to him and the Chief quickly came closer to him and extended his own brown hand to him. The Dark Lord had to lean forward and the Chief had to stand on tiptoe, so large his horse was. The two warriors grasped each other's hand and shook them.

"May the Darkness ride with you, my friend," the Dark Lord said.

"Thank you," the Chief replied. "We shall not disappoint you."

He turned away from the Dark Lord and shouted a sentence in the direction of his warriors, which was quickly carried down to the lines warrior lines. The Dark Lord lifted a hand in salute and spurred his horse, with the Sith following and lifting their own hands in the air. As the Gotan army rode past the Gangar warriors, they felt an inexplicable urge to do so as well, and the Gangar warriors awaited their salutes with deafening roars, punching the air with their fists. As the Gotan army followed the Dark Lord and the Sith onward, they could hear battle songs being sung behind their backs.

Chief Growthak stood watching as the Gotan army grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared behind the horizon, riding eastward and along the Janipon border. Tomorrow, he promised to himself, this beautiful green grass shall be bathing in Janipon blood and many Janipon heads will serve as decorations for Gangarian halberds. He and his army had been getting ready for this war for way too long. He grinned and nodded to himself.


	47. Chapter 46 - Part Four

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I write because I can't help myself. :)

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XLVI – The Fall of the Abbeys of Iop-Nalle

Their journey led them along the border and then due south, where they parted ways with the general and the majority of Gotan battalions and headed in the direction of the Kingdom of Quentaa and Mangora, where eager Ruthok waited for them. They followed the Aalyan river for a week and then headed toward the Land of Mollián.

The Land of Mollián was inhabited by a mixture of Albinians and Malaskians. It was the place where Malaskians, who escaped slavery, took refuge and the Dark Lord had no allies in the Land of Mollián. The main reason for this was because the council which governed the land was far too conservative and far too stubborn, in the Dark Lord's opinion, to ever accede to an alliance with the Sith. The Dark Lord also knew that the only resistance he would come across in Mollián would be in people's minds, and not in their swords. Therefore he would send Pallantian troops to Mollián and now they were riding to the place where they would rendezvous with them.

"My parents' house lies beyond those hills yonder," Tyananna said, sitting with the Sith under one of the willows which grew along the banks of the gigantic river. "I have not been here in years. Decades."

"You have been born here?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, glancing around herself.

The grass was too high for her to see the village Tyananna was talking about and she used her Force eyes for the purpose. She saw colourful little hoses built in Malaskian style nested amidst the tall grass. She also caught a few details like neat gardens with figurines of dancing fairies and dwarves. The whole village looked as though it had been taken out of a children's book.

"That is the village of Farrondale," Tyananna said quietly. "And this whole county is called Kriss. Farrondale is a handsome little village, but there are many ponds hidden underneath the grass, which can sometimes grow up to five feet – nearly all children end up falling into a pond at some point. It is impossible to mark them all on a map since they keep changing position, due to the closeness of the Aalyan river. My father rescued me the one time I fell in."

"Well, the Farrondale village, along with the rest of the Land of Mollián, will be attacked tomorrow," the Dark Lord said.

"I know," Tyananna said quietly.

"That is merely the place where you have been born and the dwelling place of the woman who gave birth to you. It does not matter."

"I know that as well, my Master," Tyananna said quickly, playing with her food.

She knew she should not waste time thinking about it but seeing again the high grass and the familiar river bank made her feel a little melancholic.

"Besides, you have a new family," Lady Tarralyanna added, watching her carefully.

"I know," Tyananna said again. She looked carefully in the direction of the Dark Lord, knowing he knew what she was thinking and not bothering to say it aloud. She knew it was stupid and human of her, but she considered him her father. She realised that she had never had a father, until she met him. But though she was certain he knew, he never remarked on it.

"What do you reckon your parents would say if you just showed up on their doorstep right now?" Lord Tammutyen asked suddenly.

"What do you think, Tarra?" Tyananna asked the tall Sith. Lady Tarralyanna furrowed her brow.

"Well," she started, "I would say that they would definitely be shocked. They might be happy to see that you are alive and well, but I would not go as far as to say that they would welcome you with their arms open."

"No," Tyananna laughed, shaking her head. "Mother would probably get a heart attack. And father would change his name and leave the County and say he did not want to have anything to do with me and that he was ashamed of me."

"Why, though?" Lord Tammutyen asked. "Parents are supposed to love their children, right? Why would their love depend on you fulfilling their expectations? You are no longer a Jedi, yes, but if they loved you, they would not care what you are as long as you are happy. It is your life, your will, your fate – what does it have to do with them, who have their own? I cannot understand that."

"That is a great mystery, Tammutyen," Tyananna said gravely. "It is why children try so very hard to fulfil their parents' expectations, rather than following their own path. With time they forget about their dreams and accept their parents' will as their own. I have done that. Most children do that."

"That is horrible," Lady Tarralyanna said in a hollow, shocked voice, shaking her head. "I have never realised it was such a problem."

"One sees it in the Jedi Temple as well," the Dark Lord said thoughtfully. "If a person does not fit into the mould of an ideal Jedi, he is either forced back into it or thrown out from the Order. All Jedi must be alike; and only then they are called Jedi."

"Great Abyss!" Lord Tammutyen exclaimed. "Thank Darkness you found me on time, my Master, before it could happen to me!"

If there was someone who often rebelled against orders and always questioned his Master when he was young, then it was him. If it concerned discipline, he would get punished, of course, because he had to learn how to be disciplined and organised. But often the Dark Lord listened to his reasons and asked for his opinion. If Tammutyen's reasons were justified and if they implied that he had his own approach to the matter, then the Dark Lord would approve of it. Thus he accepted some things about Tammutyen he would not normally approve of, because he realised why this was so important to Tammutyen and he, as his teacher and guide in the Dark side, approved of it and supported him.

The Dark Lord laughed.

"Your parents might not want to throw you out of the window if you would walk into their house right now, like Tyananna's," he said with a sly smile. "You never know, my apprentice – they might have been proud of you."

Lord Tammutyen furrowed his brow. It certainly sounded as though he knew something about his parents, but would not tell him. He focused his attention on the bloody piece of meat in front of him, deciding it did not matter.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Tyananna watched the troops from Pallantia come closer and closer. The Malaskians looked like children, rather than men of war, she thought. From her Nan'Tha the ponies they were riding looked like dogs. The six Malaskians who once came to Gotan rode at the head of the procession, their helmets resembling soup bowls turned upside down, whereas their swords looked like daggers for children. Tyananna had a sudden urge to laugh, but suppressed it at once. There was a reason her Master put his trust in them, that they could fulfil the task he gave to them, and she would of course respect and accept his will and judgement.

The six of them got off their ponies and knelt before the Dark Lord and the three Sith who sat on horseback right behind him, watched them with their eyes narrowed under their black hoods. Tyananna noticed their hands were trembling.

"You may rise," the Dark Lord said after a few seconds during which Tyananna felt him probing around with the Dark side, obviously listening to their thoughts.

"Is everything ready?" asked the Dark Lord in Malaskian.

"Y-yes, great Sith Lord," said one, not daring to look up. "All shall be done just as you said, Your Majesty."

"I have thought about it, you know," the Dark Lord said. "And I have decided to leave a battalion of my soldiers with you. You shall have help."

"Oh!" the Malaskian exclaimed, sounding relieved.

Apparently all they could think about since they received their orders was how to execute them and they dreaded this moment. It was no secret that the Malaskians were lousy warriors; but they were very brave, if needs must, and the troop of these strange armoured children, despite of their nervousness, seemed to be ready to fight tooth and nail.

"We are very grateful for that, great Sith Lord," answered the other Malaskian.

"Very well," the Dark Lord said, beckoning to someone. A commander broke out of the lines of the remaining Gotan soldiers and rode toward him. "Cooperate with Commander Sassoon. I daresay you will find that he even has Malaskian roots."

The commander seemed a little surprised that the Dark Lord knew this but he bowed to him and turned to the Malaskians.

"Ride to war at dawn," the Dark Lord continued in a louder voice. "Until then, you should coordinate your attack plans with Commander Sassoon and his soldiers."

The Dark Lord turned his horse around and lifted an imperious hand in the air. The troop, or what was left of it, followed him, while the Malaskians now waited with their heads bowed until he was gone. Commander Sassoon puffed up his chest and glanced over the frightened Malaskians. His own battle. He had no intention to fail.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

On their way to the abbeys of Iop-Nalle, they had only one adventure worth mentioning, which remained the topic of conversation for many days afterwards. The soldiers could not forget it and all they talked about as they rode on toward the abbeys of Iop-Nalle, was how that inhuman creature, that Sith, fought with a bear and killed it.

It was already very, very late and the troop had stopped by the river bank once again to spend the night there. Now the customs of the Sith had become obvious to everyone and the soldiers learned early enough that they should bring enough food with them to be able to eat in the saddle. Because apparently the Sith needed to eat only twice a day. Sometimes even once. Naturally when one rides to war, one does not expect luxury, but the soldiers rather believed that regular eating was essential for their strength and that the Dark Lord, who was a warrior, would understand this. However, the Sith neither seemed to require a lot of sleep, nor did they need to eat often. It was clear why the Sith slept through the early Cyrron hours and the soldiers grew accustomed to constructing awnings under which they slept so that they would not be woken by the light.

Their habits were almost like clockwork. As soon as they would stop for the night, the Sith gathered round a cauldron and began to cook their evening meal. Whatever they cooked always smelled hideous, whereas the only food the male Sith apprentice seemed to eat was raw flesh. Today their dinner smelled like horse dung, but they seemed to be enjoying it, whatever it was. They also noticed that the Sith seemed to swap duties, that is, one day one would cut and prepare the food, one would cook and one would wash the bowls and the cauldron. The other day it would be the other way round. After eating they would always smoke and drink tea. Just as they filled their pipes and started smoking – the Dark Lord was in his tent – sudden noise reached the ears of the soldiers. They jumped to their feet, whereas the Sith merely swept with the Dark side over their surroundings. Lord Tammutyen had even smelled it – it was a large animal, something he had never smelled before, for there were no such animals in the mountains of Gotan. With an excited yelp he grabbed his Ptah and sprang to his feet, turning toward the forest and passing with his tongue over his lips. Lady Tarralyanna smiled. He was a passionate hunter, but it happened so rarely that an animal came to him.

"Lunch!" Lord Tammutyen said, putting his boots back on and eagerly unsheathing his Ptah.

"My Lord," called one of the commanders. "It is a bear. We should kill it; it must be very hungry to come as close as this to such a large group of people."

"It is a – what?" Tammutyen asked, vaguely looking in his direction. "I have not heard of such an animal before. Is it large?"

"It is bigger than any of your horses, my Lord," answered the commander, eyeing him nervously.

He quickly glanced around himself. The Dark Lord was in his tent and there was no one else who could reason with him. The two female Sith were chuckling and smoking.

"Mighty Darkness!" Lord Tammutyen exclaimed, his eyes giving an excited twinkle. "I shall have lunch atop of lunch! Out of my way! I am going to kill that bear animal, bring it here and skin it."

"But..." the commander started, falling silent as Lady Tarralyanna waved a hand in his direction.

The Sith headed through the grass with his formidable sword in his hand and the soldiers allowed him to pass, bowing their heads. It was then the bear chose to appear in the camp. With a loud grunt, the animal pushed a few branches aside and stepped out on the clearing. The two female Sith got to their feet, still smoking and grinning at each other. Their placidity was driving the soldiers mad, for there it was, the beast, ready to eat half of the camp and they were still having their evening smoke and were grinning to each other. The commander concluded that the Sith had no idea what a bear was and that they had no idea how dangerous this animal was. His only hope was the Dark Lord and that he would come out of his tent and sort it all out soon.

"Hello, bear," Lord Tammutyen said in a sing-song voice, glancing over the animal.

The bear's small eyes swivelled toward him. The creature standing right in front of it smelled very odd; but the bear was very hungry and if this creature was already there and was obviously volunteering to be its dinner, it was fine. The bear let out a deafening roar, which only seemed to excite Lord Tammutyen even more.

At this point, the Dark Lord emerged from his tent and looked around himself with mild interest. The commander was frantically pointing at the bear and at Tammutyen, trying to explain the situation to him, that there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to prevent his student from going after the bear on his own, but the Dark Lord, to his immense surprise and annoyance, merely waved off carelessly just like the two female Sith did, crossed his hands on his chest and stood beside them to watch.

"Oh, how you roar!" Lord Tammutyen said, staring at the bear. "I have never heard anything like it! But I will let you hear my roar, too!"

He cleared his throat, opened his mouth – all the while the soldiers thought he was quite mad – and let out a horrible yell which made everyone's hairs stand on end. It was nothing like the bear's roar, but it was certainly very loud and unpleasant. The soldiers stared at him in pure horror, whereas the Dark Lord merely chuckled.

This had an immediate effect on the bear. This creature seemed to be very strong, despite of its appearance. The bear, however, was famished and decided to eat the strange creature, no matter how strong it was. With another roar, the bear made a swipe for Tammutyen, who jumped and landed graciously on the top of the bear's head. He grinned, spun his Ptah, getting ready to kill the bear, but something seemed to occur to him in the last moment.

"Is this bear animal's anatomy like the deer animal's?" he asked in a yell.

"YES!" the three Sith yelled back.

"Ah!" Tammutyen exclaimed, more to himself. "I thought so!"

All the while the bear was frantically spinning in place and trying to take a swipe at the Sith, who avoided his each attack without even paying attention to what was going on. To Tyananna it looked as though he was standing on hot coal or was performing some sort of a weird war dance.

Lord Tammutyen roared again – the soldiers jumped – and spun the Ptah, lifting it high in the air and summoning the Dark side. He thrust the sword, giving his movement unnatural momentum and strength using the Dark side, deep into the bear's head. The soldiers clearly heard the bear's skull smash and blood began to gush from the bear's snout and trickle from its eyes. The great animal gurgled, shook and fell down on the grass with a thud which could had easily been felt all they way back in the capital City of Gotan.

Lord Tammutyen landed safely on the ground right as the bear fell, spun his bloody sword and grinned. He reached out for the animals' heart with the Dark side, meaning to crush it, but he found that the bear was already dead.

The two female Sith clapped enthusiastically and the Dark Lord nodded, directing a sentence at him no one understood, but it was obvious that it was praise.

"Hurry up with the skinning," he added over his shoulder, as he was now on his way back to the tent.

"Yes, my Master!" Lord Tammutyen yelled after him, turning to the animal again with a glint in his eye.

He pointed a finger at nothing in particular, but the following second a long knife with a slightly curved blade flew into his hand. He took his shirt off and tossed it aside with an air of a person who had every intention in getting very dirty.

"Well?" he called, glancing around himself. "Will no one help me?"

A dozen soldiers drew their daggers and ran toward the dead animal. As they worked they cast glances at the Sith's formidable back, who kept smacking his lips and hungrily glancing over the meat.

After that gossip spread like wildfire. No one believed that the Sith were human anymore, after everything they had seen and witnessed. Of course, most of the soldiers who used to live in the capital City of Gotan knew that the King, that is, the Dark Lord, practically raised his apprentices and they could understand that they had no idea about the real world until he allowed them to leave the palace. They believed that the Sith had been raised and trained to be warriors and their skill was stunning, to put it mildly. Of course, the King rarely used to go out in public and mainly visited the Court. But they clearly remembered that whenever he would leave the City or speak to the people, he would wear a hood. Now he could no longer hide the fact that he was not an old man and that did not surprise them the least.

ooooooooooooooooooo

The following day they finally reached the abbeys of Iop-Nalle, heralded by the spires stretching out toward the heavens. The abbeys were inhabited by priests who lived to glorify the name of Narywath, or the Albinian deity, which, according to their beliefs, created the world.

The whole county was built in the shape of a triangle and the abbeys were divided into convents and the principal convent occupied the middle. All abbeys and other buildings had been built in white stone and the abbeys themselves were shaped as puddings, in Tyananna's opinion.

"Here we wait for the army of Montague," the Dark Lord said loudly, dismounting his horse.

They stopped sheer before the border and Tyananna jumped off her horse, looking toward the abbeys. The covenants seemed very silent; but not for long. Through the Dark side she could see the army of Montague riding in their direction and could hear the pounding of thousands of hooves with her Force ears. Soon the priests of Iop-Nalle would be have a good reason to pray.

She sat down with her pipe and watched through the Dark side as the archers of Montague smashed the main gate with a battering ram. At the same time troops attacked the county from other two directions and charged inside. Silently she watched them fight their way through the abbeys, listening to the screams and pleadings of the priests with her Force ears. Several hours later Lady Tarralyanna nudged her in the ribs and she looked toward the closest abbey. The banner of Darkness was being hoisted up, replacing the banner of the Brotherhood of Iop-Nalle. She smiled. At that moment she felt pride swelling inside of her, at the very thought that she was one of the Sith, a carrier of the Black Flame and executor of the will of Darkness. She felt no pity at all, but happiness, knowing that the will of Darkness had been executed today.

"Tiya," Lady Tarralyanna whispered into her ear, giving her a start. Tyananna blinked. "Do you remember when we talked about your parents while we were in the Land of Mollián?"

"Yes," Tyananna said promptly, furrowing her brow.

"Master opened his mind to us for a split second while we talked about it," she went on excitedly, her sapphire eyes glinting. "Have you heard his thought?"

"No," Tyananna said, feeling quite stupid.

"He was thinking about your Ceremony of Coming," Lady Tarralyanna whispered on. "For a moment he thought how he should perform the Ceremony and he visualised everything. He believes you are ready for it."

"Really?" Tyananna whispered.

"Yes, really," Lady Tarralyanna said, grinning. "I am sure he means to do it after the war."

Lady Tarralyanna embraced Tyananna, who was quite speechless. She just grinned stupidly and allowed Lady Tarralyanna to rub her back.

"Group hugging!" Lord Tammutyen cried, throwing himself at them and embracing both of them, pressing them firmly against himself.

"Tammu!" Lady Tarralyanna muttered with her head pressed against his chest. "Let go of me!"

"What is the reason for group hugging anyway?" he asked as the released them.

The two pulled down their shirts and breathed with relief. Lady Tarralyanna threw him a dirty look and whispered something into his ear. His eyes twinkled as he looked up.

"Oooh," he said. "So we will have yet another reason to celebrate after the war."

"After we win," Lady Tarralyanna added smugly.

"Training," said a voice behind them. "Now."

Tyananna jumped. How long had the Dark Lord been listening?

As she followed the two out to the clearing where they could practise, the Dark Lord smiled to himself and shook his head.

oooooooooooooooooo

Late in the evening, the army of Montague finally showed up, lead by Gimya Arnthok and the Fellowship of the Horse-Lords, who rode in a tight-knit group. Each rider wore a long quiver on his back, the weapon they were most familiar with. Their hair flew around their heads as they galloped toward the camp, wearing serious expressions. Tyananna noted with surprise that there was a group of female archers riding with them, what was uncommon enough for Albinians. Chief Growthak's army, for instance, consisted of males and females, but that was a Droddian custom.

Come to think of it, the female archers did not look very much different than the male. They all had very fine features, which could almost be called androgynous. The women of Montague also wore tunics and tights which disappeared in their riding boots.

"Sith Lord," said Gimya as soon as they were close enough, bowing to him from the saddle.

It could be considered as impertinence not to kneel before the future emperor but Tyananna supposed it was just Montague tradition. They were, after all, accustomed to doing everything from the saddle. She knew for a fact that the Fellowship of the Horse-Lords were faithful allies of her Master's.

"The abbeys of Iop-Nalle have fallen," Gimya announced in a loud, proud voice. "There has not been much resistance; and we have claimed them in your name, my Lord."

"Excellent," the Dark Lord said, nodding.

"But," Gimya added, "we have found evidence that a few Jedi were here. We have interrogated the priests, but they would not speak to us, saying they gave their oaths and would rather die than break them. Thus we have brought a few with us for you to interrogate, or to do with them what you will."

"How did you know which priests to take?" the Dark Lord asked.

"The highest-ranking ones, my Lord," Gimya said, sounding a little confused, as though he was now questioning his conduct and wondering whether he had done the right thing. "We reasoned that if Jedi were indeed here, that they would certainly speak to the highest-ranking priests."

"You have reasoned well, Gimya Arnthok," the Dark Lord said. The Montague archer breathed with relief. "Bring them before me."

Gimya turned in the saddle and shouted, at what a few riders dismounted their horses and approached the female archers. Only now Tyananna realised that a few women rode with priests in their saddles. The archers grabbed them and dragged them toward the Dark Lord. They looked beaten and were barely walking. Apparently the archers tried to persuade them to reveal their secrets, but it was to no avail.

The archers gave the priests a push and they landed on their knees right before the feet of the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord skimmed with his glance over them and then selected one. Tyananna watched, transfixed. The priest slowly lifted his glance and started when he found himself face to face with the Dark Lord. He muttered a few quick sentences, which sounded like a prayer to Tyananna. The following moment she felt the Dark Lord digging through the priest's mind, who knelt and trembled, muttering the exact same words over and over again.

Tyananna supposed that this was the old language which was once used by the prophet of Narywath and which no one except for the priests spoke. For several moments the Dark Lord seemed to be listening to the priest's thoughts and no one dared to make a sound. No one knew what he was doing, except for the three Sith, who followed his every movement. At some point, however, the Dark Lord obviously grew weary of listening to his prayers and wrapped the hand of the Dark side around his throat. The priest threw his head aback and gasped, while the eyes of the Dark Lord bore into him. At long last, the Dark Lord lowered his hand and turned away from the man, who slumped on the ground, breathing heavily.

"Such poor mental powers," said the Dark Lord in Sith to his apprentices, shaking his head.

"You have done well, Gimya Arnthok," he said in Albinian to Gimya, who bowed to the Dark Lord.

Some of the archers were against taking the priests with them, believing that Narywath would curse them for it, but Gimya was persistent. He was certain that the Dark Lord would want to know. And he was right.

"Let a few of your people take them back to their convent," the Dark Lord said. "I have found out what I wanted to know."

"And you, Gimya Arnthok," continued the Dark Lord, as the archers hastened to take the priests away, "will order the army to camp here."

Gimya and his companions settled down away from the Gotan army and sat to cook the few fish they caught in the river. Just as they were done with their simple meal, they noted that the students of the Dark Lord stood up and approached them. He sat staring at them, wondering what they wanted.

"We should like to socialise with you and your fellow countrymen," said the slender female, glancing over them.

"Oh," Gimya said eloquently, moving aside to make place for them. "Of course, Lady Tarralyanna."

He knew their names since he met them in Gotan. But the only thing he did was to exchange a few words with them and that was all. Tyananna carried a steaming pot in her hand, presumably their tea or coffee. She put it down on the ground before her and sat down beside Lady Tarralyanna.

"We are curious about your bows, Liege Arnthok," Lady Tarralyanna said without further ado.

"Our bows?" Gimya echoed.

It occurred to him, however, that the Sith would of course be very curious about weaponry.

"Oh, yes!" he exclaimed at length, reaching out for his quiver. "I shall show it to you, if you wish to see it."

He proffered the bow to Lady Tarralyanna, who took it with a nod. The bow was passed from hand to hand and the wood was carefully examined. A few hissing words were exchanged, but nothing more. Lord Tammutyen seemed to be most interested in the bowstring.

"What is the range of this bow?" he asked. "It is slightly longer than the traditional Montague bow."

"Why, you are right, Lord Tammutyen," Gimya said, surprised that he noticed it. They must know far more about their bows than they are letting on, he thought. "I have very long arms, you see, and this length is just perfect for me. But I am afraid I have never measured its range, nor that of my other bows."

"You use more than one bow?" Tyananna asked, turning to him.

"I do not usually stick to one, no," Gimya said uncertainly, surprised with the question.

The three Sith exchanged a few words. Gimya found their whispering a little unnerving, because he had no idea what they were talking about. They filled their cups with the black liquid from the pot and glanced around the assembled people with unhidden interest. The archers of Montague felt as though their glances could go right through their heads and see what was inside. Gimya Arnthok was pretty certain they knew exactly what he was thinking and this filled with with a sense of unease.

"How come you have women riding with you?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, who had been dying to find out. She could not remember reading about such a custom in any of the books she read about the Land of Montague. "It is not a custom of your land."

"No, you are right," Gimya said. "There have been too few of us, you see, since we had to divide the archers in many battalions and we needed a bigger number of archers for our assault on the abbeys. I presumed that the priests would be intimidated by our number and we did not want to shed any blood. We only wanted to frighten them and force them to surrender."

"That is a tactically wise approach," Lord Tammutyen said, staring at him. "But why is it not a custom? Can female archers not shoot well enough?"

"Oh, they shoot admirably," Gimya laughed.

Archery and horsemanship were a tradition in Montague and every little boy and girl knew how to use a bow.

"Why, then?" Lady Tarralyanna persisted.

"They... I..." Gimya began.

He did not know what to say, for he had never asked himself that question. It was just the way it was and he had no answer to it. He sighed.

"It is the tradition of our land," he said at last. "And I was not certain that the Sith Lord would approve of us taking the women along with us. However, it had to be done and now that they have fulfilled their tasks, they can go back home."

"Well, perhaps he has not said it in front of you," Lady Tarralyanna said, "but the Dark Lord approves of it. As he approves of everything you have done so far."

"He does?" Gimya asked confused. "Oh, I suppose... in that case... we shall take them with us."

"But, if you are uncertain whether they are mentally ready for battle – though I think they just proved that they are – we can speak to them."

"Oh, by all means," Gimya said.

She must have seen it in my mind, he thought.

"This is their war as well and they have the right to partake in it," Lady Tarralyanna said, nodding.

Gimya said nothing. Since the Dark Lord already wanted the women to go along, there was no point in arguing. Perhaps he had no idea about traditions. After all, the closest country to Gotan was Gangar. Obviously Gotan approved of certain Droddian customs and everyone knew that it was according to the Droddian customs everyone went to war, except for the children. The thought of all those women dying in battle was unbearable; but Gimya knew better than to defy the Dark Lord. He cursed himself inwardly for taking them with the army in the first place and the one person who put the idea into his head.

The Montague women, who kept to themselves, looked round in surprise when they noted that the three Sith were heading in their direction.

"We have been told that you came along to participate in the attack on the abbeys because Gimya Arnthok wished to have more archers," Lady Tarralyanna said, glancing over them, who stared back. "Whose idea was it in the first place?"

Silence. For a moment Tyananna thought that they got it wrong, that Gimya's thoughts were simply too vague and erratic, but then a woman from the back lifted a trembling hand, and said:

"It was mine, honoured Sith knight."

Lady Tarralyanna beckoned to her and the woman nervously approached her. If there was not for the lumps in her tunic, Tyananna would not be able to tell the men and women apart straight away. How come the two genders looked so alike?

"I am the daughter of Liege Uruquel and my brother is there, with Liege Arnthok and the rest of the Fellowship," the archer said in a trembling voice. "It was my idea."

"What is your name?" Tyananna asked, staring at her.

"Lefayenn Uruquel," she answered. "We shall be taking our leave now, once we see the men off."

"Nothing of the sort," Lady Tarralyanna said airily.

Lord Tammutyen remained standing in the shadows, as they agreed that it would be for the best if Tyananna and Lady Tarralyanna spoke to them.

"The Dark Lord wants you to go with us."

Tyananna quickly noted the exchanged smiles and excitement which spread among them like wildfire. Lefayenn stared at the two female Sith standing in front of her. It was obvious they were not human, but what they were, she could not tell. Obviously they were warriors and since Lefayenn saw them for the first time, she could not keep her eyes off them.

"We shall be leaving soon," Lady Tarralyanna said. "But we still have some time. We want to watch you practise shooting. Go and fetch your bows."

The archers scattered about, what naturally attracted a lot of attention. And while no one dared to eavesdrop on what the Sith were talking about with the female archers, now some of the archers dared to come closer.

Lefayenn was a young girl; but her shooting was marvellous. Her hands were steady and she had the eye of a hawk. Although she was nervous, her movements revealed dexterity in handling her bow and Tyananna imagined she grew up with it. For a while the three Sith strolled among them and watched them shoot. Using a bow required precision and good orientation in space, which seemed to be innate to all Albinians from the Land of Montague. Maybe it was something they ate, Tyananna wondered? Something in the air?

"Do you use a bow as well, honoured Sith knight?" Lefayenn asked as Lady Tarralyanna dismissed them, telling them to go and get ready to leave. The tall, slender Montague archer replaced her bow in her quiver.

"Oh, yes," Lady Tarralyanna answered, giving her a secretive smile.

It became clear to Lady Tarralyanna from the start that Lefayenn considered her the least intimidating among the Sith and would therefore rather speak to her than to the other two.

"It is very short and nothing like the Montague bows. Of course, its range is limited as a consequence," Lady Tarralyanna said.

She took it with her as she imagined she might either have to demonstrate something to the women or that they would be curious about her own bow. The young woman took it from her and ran with her fingers down the smooth, black wood.

"That is wood I am unfamiliar with," she said.

"It is native to Gotan," Lady Tarralyanna said.

"And... oh, such wonderful ornaments!" Lefayenn cried.

The rest of the women distanced themselves away, seeming quite relieved that they did not have to speak to the Sith anymore, and were casting desperate glances in Lefayenn's direction, as though imploring her to come.

"Those are Sith glyphs," Lady Tarralyanna said.

The smile from Lefayenn's face faded. She looked into the sapphire eyes boring into her. It almost seemed as though she had forgotten that Lady Tarralyanna was a Sith, which was a word that made every Montague archer's blood freeze.

"You are not Albinian," the young woman said quietly. "Nor are you Caelian. And I... have never seen the colour of your eyes before."

"I am a Sith," Lady Tarralyanna said, taking her bow from her. "I am not human."

She tapped her on the shoulder – Lefayenn winced – and turned around, heading back toward Lord Tammutyen and Tyananna and putting her arms around their shoulders. As they went back toward the black tent, Lefayenn could hear then talking quickly in a hissing language she could not understand. She remained rooted to the spot, staring after them. Despite what her people said about the Sith, she decided she liked Lady Tarralyanna.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Leaving the white spires which were now adorned with the banners of the Dark side, the army rode on toward the rocky land of Pyén Morrien.

The land of Pyén Morrien was populated by tribes, which mostly constituted of Albinian-Droddian half-bloods. The members of the tribes chose to live in isolation and the rocky terrain of Pyén Morrien allowed them do live in peace. The army was going to meet there with one of the Dark Lord's allies in this land, who was the Head of a tribe called Wrron. He was an elderly man of Droddian heritage, known by the name of Itah, what stood for 'storm' in Droddian.

As they rode on, the scenery began rapidly to change. The long green downs, dotted with beautiful, colourful flowers, were replaced by dry shrubbery. The tall trees which could be seen everywhere in the valleys of Iop-Nalle were gone, replaced by knotty little things which seemed to be a cross between a shrub and a tree. The air was dry, despite of the many small streams which snaked between the rocks and crystal clear rivers which thrashed violently against the rocks, thus constituting breath-taking waterfalls which supplied the troops with all the water they needed. Among other animals the land of Pyén Morrien seemed to be teeming with snakes, which however fled as soon as the army showed up. A magical scent seemed to be hovering in the air, which seemed to come from small berries. Ripe berries fell on the rocky ground and there, burned by the sun, started emitting that spicy, intoxicating scent which bewitched Tyananna's senses.

"I know what the smell reminds me of," she said after a while. "Your perfume, Tammutyen."

Lord Tammutyen lifted his eyebrows at her and smiled weakly. He did not seem to be having fun, now that there was little or no shade. Despite of the fact that they missed the early Cyrron hours he still seemed to be suffering in the scorching sunlight. His hands were trembling, sweat was dripping off his brow and though Tyananna was experiencing strange stabbing in her temples and despite of the fact her sight was slightly blurred, she was certain that all that was nothing compared to what Tammutyen was going through.

"It is true," Lady Tarralyanna said. "Tammu is very fond of those berries. The perfume is easily made – one squashes the berries and then cooks their juice, mixing it with oil, and then leaves it to cool off."

"What is your favourite perfume made of, Tarra?" Tyananna asked curiously.

"Oh, that would be the Heart of the Desert," Lady Tarralyanna said, smiling. "Ever heard of it?"

Tyananna shook her head, staring at her. She thought it had something to do with some desert! It certainly smelled that way.

"It is a very rare flower, which grows in some of the oases," Lady Tarralyanna said, while Lord Tammutyen reached out for the umpteenth time for his handkerchief which more resembled a bed sheet than a handkerchief and wiped his brow, all the while angrily cursing in Sith.

"Its petals are yellow, but if it is exposed to sunlight the petals look as though they are made of gold."

"Does it have a name in Sith?" Tyananna asked.

"Well, that is a good question and the answer is no," Lady Tarralyanna said, furrowing her brow. "It is not mentioned in any of the books about the Horukaan flora. Since all the books I read have been written before the Third Age, I have concluded that it did not exist before the Third Age. It is a possibility, is it not? As some species grow extinct, new ones appear."

"Here we can have lunch," the Dark Lord said unexpectedly, looking at Lord Tammutyen with slight concern. "My apprentice does not look too well."

"Oh, my Master, it is nothing," Lord Tammutyen answered.

However, as he jumped off his horse, he was the first who reached the trees which offered some shade, where he sat down with a sigh of relief and began to rummage through his saddlebags.

"And here, my apprentices," the Dark Lord said as he joined them, "we come to the famous lake of H'Sroth, or, 'bloodshed lake', as it would be in Albinian."

Tyananna looked up and exchanged a glance with Lady Tarralyanna. Although they were tired, they had to see the lake. They left Lord Tammutyen in the shade, who did not seem to be interested in any lakes and who did not even seem to be listening, and made their way through the trees to emerge on the edge of a tall cliff.

The Bloodshed Lake seemed as though it was dropped from the sky. Occupying a deep hole which looked as though someone had drilled it, the red water stood unmovable, if one would exclude the slight rippling of the surface caused by the wind. It was so unnatural, so eerie, so strange, that if one did not know it was water, one might just think it was a gigantic piece of red rock.

"Mighty Darkness," Tyananna whispered.

"Heart of Rage," Lady Tarralyanna muttered, staring at the lake with intellectual hunger gleaming in her eyes.

She read about it, of course; but the description in the book was nothing compared to the actual sight of it.

"According to the legend, the blood of the people of Pyén Morrien, which was spilled in the Great War, accumulated in this lake. The legend also says that the souls of the deceased warriors live in the lake, yearning for revenge," the Dark Lord said seriously, watching the Lake.

Behind him, many soldiers and archers, who had dared to take a peek at the lake as well, were exclaiming and gasping at the sight the Lake offered.

"However," the Dark Lord continued, the corner of his mouth twitching, "if one would dive in, again according to the legend, and survive, one would gain support of the deceased warriors and their strength and courage. If the souls of the deceased warriors find one an able warrior, that is."

"I do not recall reading about that, my Master," Lady Tarralyanna said, looking at him in astonishment.

"No," the Dark Lord said, giving her a crooked smile. "But I happen to know that."

"That is a wonderful legend," Tyananna said, amazed. Any story about courage and sacrifice seemed to appeal to her.

"Well, that settles it," Lady Tarralyanna said, still looking at the Lake. "I am going in for a swim."

The Dark Lord chuckled.

"It is why you have told us that, is it not, my Master?" Lady Tarralyanna asked.

"It is," he answered curtly, lifting his chin and pursing his lips. "But you should rest first. I shall go down to the Lake with you later."

"You cannot be serious about this, Tarra," Tyananna hissed into her ear as soon as they were out of their Master's earshot. "What if...?"

"What if what?" Lady Tarralyanna echoed. "I am a Sith knight and the incarnate Dark Lord's apprentice. If that does not fit into the description of an 'able warrior', then, Heart of Rage, I know not what does."

Tyananna had to agree that she had a point; and besides, a legend was a legend. But there was something in her Master's eye that told her this was no mere legend. She was certain he told them about souls of the deceased warriors and their promise so that they might get a fancy to take a swim in the Lake, in order to gain more power. The promise of power was enough to seduce any Sith.

"All right," she said with an air of determination, turning to Lady Tarralyanna, who began cutting her fruit. "I am going as well."

"Oh, Tiya," Lady Tarralyanna said, looking genuinely happy. "That is wonderful!"

"Going where?" Lord Tammutyen growled.

"For a swim in the H'Sroth," Lady Tarralyanna said matter-of-factly.

Lord Tammutyen nearly choked on the mouthful of bear meat he just pushed into his mouth.

"It is here?" he asked, his eyes suddenly giving that fanatical twinkle Tyananna knew all too well. He glanced around himself. "I mean, we are here?"

"Yes, it is right behind those trees," Lady Tarralyanna said placidly.

"Mighty Darkness!" Lord Tammutyen exclaimed. "I am going, too!"

"Well, I suppose you would better ask Master for permission," Tyananna said, lost in thought.

"That makes two, then," Lady Tarralyanna said, lifting an eyebrow.

Lord Tammutyen did not wait for Tyananna, but jumped to his feet and charged off. Tyananna followed him to the place where the Dark Lord was sitting and smoking his pipe.

"Master," Lord Tammutyen said breathlessly, "Lady Tarralyanna told me that the lake of H'Sroth is right behind the trees and that you have given her the permission to swim in it."

"That is true," the Dark Lord affirmed, reaching out for his coffee. "You want to go as well? I approve of it."

"May I give it a go, too?" Tyananna asked, staring at him.

The dark eyes bored into her.

"You want to say that you consider yourself an able warrior and want to prove it?" he asked sharply.

"Er..." Tyananna said, suddenly feeling dubious about the whole thing.

"SPEAK!" roared the Dark Lord, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Do not stutter and state your opinion! A Sith always knows what he wants and he gets it! Well?"

"I want to go and take a swim in the Lake," Tyananna fired out without thinking. "And I am asking for permission."

"Permission granted," the Dark Lord said, turning away from them.

As they turned and went, he smiled to himself. He was looking forward to seeing them do it, as well.

Lady Tarralyanna did not seem surprised when they told her they would be joining her.

"Excellent!" she said. "We shall go in one by one."

"Why do you reckon the water is red?" asked Tyananna. "We should take our clothes off."

"It is blood," Lady Tarralyanna said, shrugging, as though this was understood by itself.

Lord Tammutyen let out an excited yelp.

"Blood!" he cried, his eyes wide. "All that blood... just for me!"

"Yes, blood, but the legend says it is hundreds of years old, so I do not think it is drinkable any more," Lady Tarralyanna said, smirking at him.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

The soldiers felt compelled to follow the Sith as they headed toward the cliff. The Dark Lord walked at the head with his hands on his back, whereas his apprentices looked very excited for some reason. One of them was carrying a very long coil of rope over his shoulder. Therefore the soldiers concluded something was going on and several of them got up and followed the little Sith procession. They arrived right on time to see them tie up the rope around a massive oak and then begin to descend the rope down toward the Lake.

"My Lord," Gimya gasped, staring at the Dark Lord, who watched his apprentices descend lower and lower. "What-where are they going?"

"Oh, just for a swim," the Dark Lord said placidly. "I thought they might enjoy a swim in such a beautiful lake."

"The lake? Not the Bloodshed Lake, surely?" Gimya echoed.

For a moment he thought that the Sith were going to take a look at the Lake and then wash themselves in the river, like everyone else did. But now it became apparent that they wanted to take a swim in the Bloodshed Lake. At this moment Lefayenn and several women appeared by his side.

"Yes, a rather breathtaking sight, this lake, is it not?" the Dark Lord went on, apparently oblivious to their horror. "Well, now that we are here, they had to take a swim in it."

Gimya gaped at him. The three Sith had in the meantime descended the rope and were now walking around the edge of the lake and talking to each other. They suddenly started to take their clothes off. When Gimya realised that the princesses were going to be naked, he bowed to the Dark Lord and left. However, Lefayenn and her friends remained behind, hoping that the Dark Lord would not shoo them away. But he did not seem to notice they were there at all, he was too busy watching his students. When Lefayenn next looked down, Lady Tarralyanna was standing naked on the edge of the Lake. Her whole body seemed to be covered in tattoos and her skin was barely visible underneath them. For a few moments she walked about and exchanged a few quick words with Tyananna, who was still taking her clothes off, but then she gracefully jumped into the red water and disappeared in it.

She was gone for perhaps ten minutes and Lefayenn began to wonder whether she had drowned. She could not see the whole lake from where she was standing and presumed that she dived out somewhere where she could not see her. However, she emerged on the opposite side of the lake, swam toward the rocks and heaved herself up. For a moment she lingered there, panting, but then she straightened up and looked up toward the Dark Lord. She waved at him and he waved back, smiling at her and nodding. Lady Tarralyanna climbed the rocks like a monkey until she arrived to edge and was awaited by Tyananna.

Lord Tammutyen caught Lefayenn's attention, who seemed to be next. For a moment she felt strange watching a naked man walking around but the Dark Lord did not seem to mind so she focused her attention back on Lord Tammutyen.

She had never seen a stronger man in her life. He had a large dragon tattoo all across his broad back and she could not think of anything more suitable to be tattooed across the back of such a man. To Lefayenn it looked as though his body had been chiselled out in stone, never to change and made to last. _Inhuman_, she thought, watching him walk about for a few more seconds, until he, too, jumped into the red water.

After perhaps a few seconds his head appeared on the surface of the lake, but the following moment, it disappeared. To Lefayenn it looked as though some invisible hand had pulled him down. After that she could see bubbles every now and then, as though Lord Tammutyen was fighting a terrible beast under the water. After perhaps few minutes, his head emerged on the surface again and he looked around himself. He roared in triumph and punched the air with his fist. His roar was amplified tenfold by the rocks and Lefayenn winced as the Dark Lord shouted out a single word, looking very pleased.

As Tyananna stepped forward, the Dark Lord's expression grew more serious. Was it possible he was concerned?

Lefayenn stared at her. From the back she looked like a man. Lord Tammutyen, however, who was sitting on the edge of the lake and watching her, smiled. She had transformed into an able warrior and even though she seemed reluctant to jump into the lake, he did not doubt she would succeed. Power was written all over her, even though she herself did not see herself as powerful.

Just as Lefayenn thought she would give it up, Tyananna hissed to herself and threw herself into the red water.

But this was no water, Tyananna concluded. However, she had no idea what it was and she had no intention in finding out. She felt many presences around her, just like when she encountered the 'evil spirit' in the gorge, which surrounded her. Their eyes seemed to be boring into her, though she could not see anything except for the red liquid around her. Tyananna could not feel her own heartbeat and she felt no need to breathe. But as surprising as this fact was, she did not dwell on it, since she felt the spirits swirling around her, brushing against her and probing her thoughts.

"And what do you want, warrior?" a voice echoed in her mind.

Good question, Tyananna thought. She had no idea why she came here. To prove a point? To prove to the Dark Lord that she could do as well as the others could? Did she really believe she could get some extraordinary power from the spirits of deceased warriors? Of course not.

"I want to be stronger for the oncoming war," she thought back.

The spirits swirled around her, at times touching her, at times whispering among themselves.

"But you are strong," remarked one voice. "You can get nothing from us. Why did you come, if you do not know what you want?"

"We see into your soul and we see doubt," whispered another voice, swirling past her.

"We can feel your desire to prove yourself," said another.

"But yearning to be stronger just in order you can prove to someone you are is not a characteristic of a warrior and thus, we cannot help you," said the first voice.

They read right through her. Tyananna clenched her teeth. What was it, that she really wanted? Everything she wanted was what the Dark Lord wanted. She did what she did in order to prove herself worthy to him. To prove to him and to the other two that she could do everything they could. She realised that she still considered herself inferior to them, despite of the huge advancement she had shown in the past many months. Nothing was ever good enough and perhaps the one person Tyananna had to prove something to was Tyananna of the Sith.

"What is it, that you really want, warrior of Darkness?" asked a voice, interrupting her thoughts.

For my body to be able to do exactly what my will tells it to. Not to fail me. Not to crumble down when I need it the most. I want... _not to be human_.

The voices swirled around her, sounding excited. Tyananna was pretty certain they knew exactly what she was thinking.

It was something she dreamed about ever since she met Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen. It was something that seemed so fantastic and strange that it was beyond her reach and her understanding. It was a fairytale she would never be a part of, because deep within she always felt she would be Larynthe, who doubted everything and always failed at everything. It was her ticket to the land of greatness, the one land she was certain she would never be allowed to enter.

"What are you ready to give in return?" asked a voice beside her ear. "In order to see your greatest wish come true?"

"Everything," Tyananna thought firmly. "Take whatever you wish; my only desire is to become inhuman. I wish to bring glory to Darkness and to the Sith Order. And I can do that only if I am strong enough. I can do that only if I am no longer human."

"Granted," said a voice after a pause.

Tyananna felt pain ripping her whole body apart. She wanted to scream, but she could not. She felt her every muscle being ripped apart, blown to pieces, and the physical pain slowly became mental pain. Her own thoughts started falling apart and her doubts faded into the background. Strange images started flashing through her mind, images of herself fighting, of herself doing impossible things which now seemed perfectly understandable and possible. Her whole life fleeted before her eyes and Tyananna saw her own death. She saw the death of that pitiful little creature which tried so hard and failed every time. The memories faded and became memories of someone else, someone she did not know and did not care about. It felt like death... relief to be finally rid of the prison of blood and flesh which were an obstacle on her way to greatness and power.

And then... life was breathed into her again.

"Arise from the cradle of blood, rider of Darkness," whispered a voice.

She felt hands underneath her, pushing her upward.

"Bring it glory," said another voice, grabbing Tyananna under the elbow and pushing her toward the surface.

"We, warriors who have the power to destroy or create, made you inhuman," said the first voice. "Live."

Tyananna's head emerged on the surface of the lake and she took one long, shuddering breath and opened her eyes. Everything looked and felt surreal. The lake, the rocks, the wind. Her sight was blurred and she trembled with the whole of her body. Her body suddenly remembered how to swim and she quickly swam over to the rocks to her left side and grabbed hold of them.

For a moment she remained there, panting and staring into the depths of the red water, trying to understand what just happened. Then she looked up and saw the Dark Lord. He lifted a hand in the air, greeting her. The Dark Lord...

Tyananna lifted a hand and nodded at him. He turned around and disappeared in the bushes.

"TIYA!" cried a female voice. "You were gone for twenty minutes! We were certain you died!"

Tyananna looked up and saw the worried face of Lady Tarralyanna, who was leaning over the edge and staring down at her. Lord Tammutyen stood beside her and stared at Tyananna with an expression of admiration on his pale face.

Tyananna looked toward the lake again and laughed. She survived it. Suddenly she realised what just happened and she did not want the two to know. In fact, once she was certain she would of course first tell them what happened and boast with it. But now she did not want to boast at all. She wanted to keep what just happened to herself and she did not want them to know.

"I did die," she answered with a broad grin.

"Do you need help up?" asked Lady Tarralyanna, who stared at her in surprise.

"No," Tyananna answered.

She grabbed a rock and pulled herself up with ease. Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen watched, dumbfounded, as their sister in the Dark side climbed the rocks and then jumped to land beside them.

"I am fine," she said as they continued staring at her.

She looked down at the silent lake and nodded to herself.

"Thank you, warriors of Pyén Morrien," she said, turning around to find her clothes.

Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen exchanged glances, but they decided they would not ask her what just happened. It seemed that she did not wish to talk about it and they could respect that. They watched Tyananna put her clothes back on while whistling to herself. What in the Name of Darkness happened down there?


	48. Chapter 47 - Part Four

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I write because I can't help myself. :)

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XLVII – The Tribes of Pyén Morrien

They rode for two more days through the rocky land of Pyén Morrien. Their horses stumbled often and at times they had to dismount and lead them by the reins. The terrain was rather intimidating and Tyananna could understand why the tribes living in Pyén Morrien felt quite safe. No robber in the right mind would bother to go through all that trouble in order to rob the tribes and it was a well-known fact that the people of Pyén Morrien did not appreciate wealth, so there was little or nothing they could take.

Although it seemed that Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna were bursting with curiosity, they did not ask Tyananna what happened in the lake. And for the first time Tyananna was grateful for that and did not want to tell them about her experience, because she herself did not know what to make of it. The souls of the deceased warriors made her inhuman? Granted, she felt different and as though she had been given another chance in life, but her body felt the same. Of course up to now she had no chance of actually putting it to a test, but a part of her was certain that something huge had changed. But this time she did not care what it was. It felt good – and it felt right.

In the evening of the second day they arrived to the edge of a chasm and stopped there.

"The tribe of Wrron lives over there," the Dark Lord said, pointing a finger across the chasm.

The Sith would of course have no problem jumping across the chasm, but the army would have to ride around it.

Gimya Arnthok growled, staring down into the dark depths of the chasm.

"It will take us a few more days to ride around it, my Lord," he said.

"Not necessarily," the Dark Lord said. "Stand away."

The three Sith turned their horses and the rest of the army followed them away from the chasm, whereas the Dark Lord dismounted his horse and lifted a hand.

A tree which was leaning over the chasm got pulled out with its roots by the Dark side and the soldiers jumped. They watched, dumbfounded, as the tree floated over to the chasm and fell across it with a ground-shaking boom. Tyananna watched with a smile as the Dark Lord pulled out a tree by tree, levitating them with a serious expression toward the chasm and dropping them there. Bits of bark and dry twigs flew everywhere as it became clear what he was trying to accomplish. He was building a bridge across the chasm.

Once the simplified bridge seemed broad enough, Gimya Arnthok watched as the Dark Lord filled the gaps with earth, standing calmly on the edge of the chasm and looking as though he was some sort of an orchestra conductor, while the earth flew through the air and landed exactly where he wanted it to. He still stared at him as he picked up the reins and led his horse across the newly built bridge, which followed him obediently. The three Sith followed him without a word and Gimya looked around himself uncertainly, before he grabbed the reins of his own frightened horse and led it toward the bridge which the Dark Lord constructed in a few blinks of an eye.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Itah, the chief of the tribe of Wrron, was an elderly man. He had large grey eyes and there was an air of youthfulness about him which was inexplicable. He wore feathers of the notorious bird of prey, Gloup, in his hair, which was greatly appreciated and was hunted by his tribe. The bird was as dangerous for small rodents and snakes as it was dangerous for people, because if it was hungry it did not choose its prey. To kill it was a great accomplishment and Itah had killed two of them with only one arrow. Arrows were often dipped in poison, so that whatever the members of the tribe hunted would die as quickly as possible. That way the animals did not suffer and the hunters did not have to run after them, because one shot was quite enough.

His half-naked body was of peculiar colour. Yes, he evidently had Droddian blood in his veins, judging by his yellow, rotten teeth and his dark skin. But his skin also had a red tinge to it, like the skin of those whose ancestors lived in Pyén Morrien for generations. Possibly there was something in the water they drank or in the food they ate, but there was no good explanation for it. Itah's wrinkled face was framed with grey, grizzled hair, which fell down to his shoulders, speaking the truth about his age. He got to his one knee without difficulty and bowed his head before the Dark Lord, who paused sheer before him.

"I am honoured you have chosen my tribe to be your ally," Itah said in a hoarse voice. "Everything stands ready, my Sith Chief."

The tribe lived in dwellings made of rock, Tyananna remembered from the book she read on the nations of Horukaan. But what she saw surprised her. Their 'houses' were actually built _into_ the rocks, some of which were undoubtedly natural caves. But most of them had to be drilled in the rock, in the same fashion the Mangora Droddians made their own underground city, which was, in Tyananna's opinion, a masterwork.

Itah's house was partially a natural cave, as it seemed, and Lord Tammutyen entered it with a sigh of relief. Finally he was away from the sun and the soothing wave of coldness splashed over him as he entered a large space which Itah apparently used as a council room. Gimya Arnthok and three of the members of the Fellowship of the Horse-Lords had entered the house along with the Sith and sat down on the hides which were placed everywhere. The fire which served as a light source emphasised the red colour of the rock, casting strange shadows on the rough stone walls. Itah sat down as well, nodding as a few women entered, carrying earthen water ewers, which they placed on the ground, after what they left.

"My great Sith Chief," Itah said, looking cautiously toward the Dark Lord's hood, which was turned in his direction, "I have undertaken a few steps which I considered wise while I was waiting for you and your army."

As the Dark Lord remained silent, now drinking and still watching him, Itah continued.

"I have travelled to visit other tribes and met with their chiefs. They are all, in my opinion, people one can trust, though it is not easy to trust someone in this part of the world. I have spoken to them and confided in them; and every single one of them agreed to stand by you in the war."

"There are over forty tribes living in Pyén Morrien," the Dark Lord said slowly. "I have chosen the tribe of Wrron as my ally for a reason. Therefore I will trust your judgement."

Itah nodded solemnly, but it seemed as though he expected the Dark Lord to approve of his actions.

"Your trust will not be betrayed, my Sith Chief," he said earnestly. "I have been very careful. They are here; but I did not want to invite them inside before I told you about it."

"Call them now," the Dark Lord said.

It was not long before seven people entered the cave, got to their knees before the Sith, with Itah stating their names and the names of their tribes as they did so. Curiously enough, there were no women chiefs, Tyananna thought. It is a custom of the land, Lady Tarralyanna answered her thoughts.

When the chiefs finally sat down, Itah spoke once again.

"You have said in your message that we shall have help in this war, my Sith Chief," he said.

Of course, the tribes of Pyén Morrien regarded highest authorities as 'chiefs' and their spirit, or the deity to which they prayed, was often called 'the Great Chief of the Skies'. Thus it was reasonable to presume that they would call the Dark Lord 'chief', no matter how silly that sounded to the three Sith.

"But the chiefs who came here today shall fight as well," he went on. "I wanted to give you a stronger army."

"That is very insightful of you," the Dark Lord said. "And you have my permission to call to war anyone who would be, in your opinion, ready to stand by me."

"Many would," Itah said, shaking his head. "But they would not be doing it out of loyalty and desire to serve you, my Sith Chief. They would be doing it because of their own interests, because they hope to prevail over other tribes."

"There can be no talk of such things," the Dark Lord said sharply. "There shall be no more anarchy and wars between the tribes. You shall all live according to my laws and respect them – and you shall live in abundance."

The chiefs stared at him in silence as he pulled out his pipe and filled it.

"Chief Growthak shall arrive to the canyon of Hosgor in five days," the Dark Lord said, puffing away. "He is the help I promised to you and he will ride with you."

Of course the Sith knew that the tribes living in this land hated Droddians and now Tyananna waited for a reaction. When it came, it was a strange one – Itah laughed.

"Growthak?" he echoed, looking around himself. "Gangar and my tribe are to ride together to war?"

"You speak of loyalty," the Dark Lord said slowly, measuring every word. "And you implied that you chose to stand by me without any hope of gain. Whatever you think about Chief Growthak and his land, his people, must be put aside at a time like this. I expect you to ride together to war and to win it. You are not little children – you are honourable warriors who know their duty. This is your duty to me, chief Itah."

Itah nodded, not wishing to argue with the Dark Lord. Tyananna thought it was rather silly of them to hate Droddians that much, given they all had Droddian blood in their veins.

"I am loyal to you, Sith Chief," Itah said quietly. "Let me prove it."

"You shall have your chance," the Dark Lord said solemnly, nodding. "And your name and the name of your own allies, who are now mine as well, shall live on long after you leave this world."

The concept of life after death was very popular among the tribes of Pyén Morrien and many customs they practised were designed to help souls to arrive into the great Land of their Forefathers. They believed that by denying themselves comforts in this life, they were going to enjoy comforts in the Land of their Forefathers and they often denounced luxury and comfort in order to show their deity that they did not matter to them. All chiefs straightened up as the Dark Lord said the right thing at the right time and exchanged glances.

"Today we shall remain here," the Dark Lord went on. "My army needs rest and we need to replenish our supplies. But as soon as we are done with that we shall ride to the canyon and there meet with Chief Growthak."

"You will find all that you require here, my Sith Chief," Itah said readily. "My land is at your disposal."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Tyananna and Lady Tarralyanna found Pyén Morrien fascinating. But they were even more fascinated with the people's customs and their lifestyle. Despite of the luxury they might enjoy, having a lake right under their nose, vegetation which grew around the lake and the many animals which lived here, they lived in poverty. They believed, of course, that the poorer and more miserable they were here, on Horukaan, the richer they would be in the Land of their Forefathers, and sometimes they went to great extremes with this, even declining to wear warmer clothes during the colder seasons, to show their deity that they did not care about comfort.

The women of Wrron wore rags, which were vaguely shaped as short skirts and wide shirts, and many walked barefoot, whereas others wore simple leather moccasins. Lady Tarralyanna and Tyananna had seen a dozen of them passing them by with heavy earthen pitchers perched atop of their heads, which they carried upon the first glance effortlessly as they climbed the slope toward the village. Spotting the two Sith, who walked with their hoods over their heads, fully armed, the little procession of women quickened the pace and kept glancing over their shoulders. Sighing, the two found the stream which was obviously used by the tribe as a source of drinkable water and glanced around themselves.

"Somehow I do not believe _they _would be ready to go to war with us," Tyananna said, sitting down beside the stream.

"No," Lady Tarralyanna said. "It is the custom of the tribes and such strict differentiation between male and female roles is so old it cannot be changed."

"You once fought against tradition and everything you have been taught, what you should become and what should not become," she went on as Tyananna pulled off her boots and dipped her feet into the cold water with a sigh of relief. "For me, that is slavery. It implies living the life of someone else and not your own. It is a life of blindness and ignorance, a life of slavery. They have no idea what they are, but they know what is expected of them."

She pointed vaguely in the direction in which the procession of women disappeared.

"They are what one tells them they are and they work hard to fit in. They do not even want to change and see what they really are. Your own struggles and battles against tradition and brainwashing have shown me how hard it really is to break out from that prison."

"It is horrible," Lady Tarralyanna went on. "I was once so excited at the prospect of seeing the world. But once I have, I was very disappointed. The world is full of slavery and horror and what is worst, people accept it and endure. They do not even try to fight back."

"The world will change once the Dark side starts to rule it," Tyananna said seriously. "But I have realised that most people do not want to change. They like their little lives and they like to be told what they have to do. Our way of life would be horrible for them and they would not be able to cope with it. So I think it is best to just leave them to it."

"That is a little harsh, do you not think so?" Lady Tarralyanna asked in surprise.

"No, just realistic," Tyananna answered, shrugging. "I was once one of them, remember? I know what it is like. And I can tell you that one has to be a Sith in order to overcome it."

They walked further down the slope and paused to marvel at the scenery. The glorious lake, stretching before them like a gigantic ink blotch, covered a good portion of the land before them. The western side of the lake was green and brown, where reed, bulrush and white lilies grew from the shallow water. But on the eastern side, they felt with the Dark side, the water was as deep and as marvellous as that of a mountain lake in Gotan. Cold and crystal clear, it was the home of birds and beasts, which lived there in harmony, sunbathing in the golden light of Luth. The animals are free, Tyananna thought – but the people are not. How very ironic.

As they climbed the slope back to the village, they ran across a few women from the tribe, who were this time carrying large pouches with vegetables protruding from them. Evidently they had been gathering food for the feast which was going to take place that evening, in honour of the guests. Not wishing to come any closer and frighten them off, now knowing that they were all scared stiff of them, the two Sith fell aback and watched from a safe distance as the women slowly climbed on, skimming with their glances over their surroundings in search of edible plants. However, a cause for intervention appeared in the shape of a large, yellow and green-striped poisonous snake, which suddenly appeared in the shrubbery just as one of the women bent down to pick up a handful of mushrooms, advancing on the little group and hissing threateningly at them.

Tyananna was the first to react, since Lady Tarralyanna seemed to forget for a moment that the women were no warriors and had no idea how to defend themselves. She sprinted uphill and reached out for the snake with the Dark side. It remained frozen in mid-air, what seemed to frighten the women even more, but before anything else could happen, Lady Tarralyanna reached out for its heart with the Dark side and crushed it. The two Sith released the snake which fell down on the grass and remained lying motionless.

"There; it is dead, brave women of Wrron," Lady Tarralyanna said in Albinian to the scared women. "It certainly looks quite dangerous. Do many such snakes live in the vicinity of your village?"

The women gaped at them with their mouths open. Tyananna shrugged, picking up the snake, thinking that Lord Tammutyen might want to eat it. It was pretty heavy, she noted. She figured that there was no point in trying to talk to the women – they were just as scared of them as they were scared of the snake.

"Thank you, great Sith," someone suddenly said after them in a trembling voice. "You saved our lives."

Tyananna paused, turning to them with the snake dangling over her shoulder.

"You are welcome," she said calmly.

The woman who spoke stared at Tyananna with fearful admiration, since she seemed to think that Tyananna was the one who killed the snake.

"How can we thank you, great hands of the Spirit?" the woman asked almost tearfully.

They did not seem to think that even Tyananna had something to do with the killing of the snake, but the Spirit. If wonders occurred, they had to be the work of the Spirit. She sighed.

"Do you cook well, brave women of Wrron?" Lady Tarralyanna asked suddenly.

Tyananna looked at her in surprise.

"Oh, yes," said the woman eagerly.

"Tyananna and I are very fond of mushrooms," Lady Tarralyanna said. "And since we have been travelling, we have not had a chance to eat a good mushroom soup. Do you think you could make one for us?"

Their expressions changed at once and the woman smiled.

"We can make you an excellent mushroom soup, great Sith," she said.

"We would like that," Lady Tarralyanna said, smiling at her. "Thank you."

Tyananna stared at her with disapproval as they resumed climbing the slope.

"Have we not just spoken about slavery?" she asked sharply.

"Yes," Lady Tarralyanna said. "But they believe we are the hands of the Spirit and they wanted to thank us in some way. They believe that the only thing they know how to do is to cook and take care for their husbands; and the easiest way to make a housewife happy is to praise her cooking and say no one else can cook like she can. I have tested that theory on Peetah on a number of occasions."

"I see," Tyananna said, still not sounding convinced.

"It will make them happy," Lady Tarralyanna said. "Anything else would not."

"It _is_ a little contradictory," Tyananna said, thinking about it. "But I have to agree with you."

Lady Tarralyanna smiled at her and patted her on the back.

"And now," she said, winking at her, "we know what we will have for dinner – mushroom soup."

oooooooooooooooooo

Lord Tammutyen was having a great time. He first ate and he ate; and after he was certain he could not have another bite of any kind of meat, no matter how bloody and savoury, and that he could not have another gulp of blood, he settled down to sleep in the shade of a large olive tree. There he lay down on his back, closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately. Many villagers thought he had died and approached him cautiously, staring at his unmovable chest, which ascertained them he was indeed dead. However, they chose not to meddle in, thinking that other Sith would soon find his body.

Lord Tammutyen slept for some time, until the feeble rays of the sun of Luth woke him. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawned. Apparently his two sisters in the Dark side were still exploring the village. He filled his pipe and smoked in the shade for a while, wondering how to spend the remaining bit of time he had on his hands. The Dark Lord did not tell them to come back for a training session, so Lord Tammutyen decided to go hunting. Not that he was hungry, far from it. But the trees and the shrubbery were full of strange animal scents and the occasionally appearing snouts and fluffy tails disappearing in holes had woken the hunter's instinct within him.

And so he got up, took his Ptah and set off. On the eastern side of the lake, where the water was deeper, the trees were thicker and taller and this was the right place to hunt, in his opinion. The many different animal scents were driving him mad, but he tried to concentrate on one among the many and locate the animal with the Dark side. At some point he smelled something exceedingly interesting, something reptilian, which was his favourite meat and proceeded on all fours toward the source of this smell, creeping forward with a dagger in his teeth, his dark eyes narrowed and twinkling with excitement.

Gently he pushed one of the branches aside and set his eyes on a river. The source of this exquisite smell was a very large animal, which was now lazily basking in the sunlight of Luth. It lay on its side with its small eyes closed. Excited, Lord Tammutyen now began planning how to kill it. But his pondering was interrupted by the appearance of a group of people coming toward him. Lord Tammutyen hissed with annoyance and set off to intercept them, so that they would not ruin his hunt.

The group of hunters comprised of a few young men and three middle-aged ones, who were all members of the Wrron tribe. Two of them were carrying a deer on a pole and jumped as the intimidating figure of the Sith suddenly emerged from the bushes.

"Oh, great Sith," breathed one of the middle-aged men. "Forgive us. We thought..."

"Quiet!" Lord Tammutyen hissed, baring his teeth angrily. "You will ruin my hunt! I was just going to kill the sunbathing reptile when you showed up. You call yourselves hunters? You walk like elephants!"

"Our sincerest apologies, great Sith," said the man, staring at the broad chest of the angry Sith. "May we help in any way?"

Lord Tammutyen glanced over them. Evidently these youngsters were sons of the middle-aged hunters, who had been taken along to carry things and to learn how to hunt. Lord Tammutyen never had any problems in killing any animal he fancied, either with the aid of the Dark side or without it. He however preferred to do it without it, because that way the hunt was more honourable and fair in his opinion. But now he wondered how others hunted. For that reason he decided to take the hunters along with him.

"All right," he said. "Follow me, be quiet and do as I tell you."

The hunters nodded, telling the youngsters to go back to the village and take the deer along with them, following the Sith through the bushes. If they were already making such a racket while coming here, now they were creeping behind Lord Tammutyen as quietly as they could. Lord Tammutyen anxiously peered through the bushes, concluding with relief that the creature was still there. Possibly the sun made it a little drowsy.

However, as the hunters now approached Lord Tammutyen from behind, it lifted its head and sniffed. Having a pretty good idea what was about to happen, Lord Tammutyen cursed, quickly stood up and lifted a hand, seizing the animal around its throat with the Force just as it was about to leave its sunbathing spot. As the Sith lifted the animal in the air with the Dark side, he squeezed its throat while the animal frantically kicked about in the air, until it slackened up. Then he dropped it and turned toward the hunters.

"Great Abyss!" he hissed. "It smelled you! You must smell pretty bad if it smelled you from such a distance, since the wind is blowing in the opposite direction!"

The hunters slowly got to their feet, staring at the animal which lay in the shallow water of the river. It occurred to Lord Tammutyen, however, that he had always either hunted alone or with the two Sith. Perhaps the hunters were not to blame? Perhaps the fact he was not human made him such a good hunter, since the animals were obviously unable to smell him? He decided to ask the Dark Lord about it.

"You shall aid me in carrying it," he said, bending over the animal and passing with his tongue over his lips. "It looks delicious. What sort of an animal is this?"

"It is Protta, the king of the lizards, great Sith," said one hunter, staring at the animal in awe.

"Well, it certainly is very fast and it looks strong," Lord Tammutyen said, glancing over the reptile.

"You are a great hunter," the hunter said, looking for a tree-trunk they could use to carry the animal. "I am certain you could kill the beast which lives in the caves."

"Beast?" Lord Tammutyen asked, turning to him with interest in his eyes. "What is it?"

"No one knows," the hunter said carefully. "It lives in the caves and comes out in the night, killing our goats. No one has seen it and lived to tell us how it looks like, though many tried."

"Is it a legend, like the Lake of Bloodshed?" Lord Tammutyen asked eagerly.

"You have seen it, Sith hunter?" asked the hunter.

"I have taken a swim in it," said Lord Tammutyen with a self-satisfied smile.

His experience was something he would not easily forget and the lesson he had been taught by the spirits was something he would always remember.

"Heavenly tears!" the hunter gasped.

Lord Tammutyen smiled. The Sith's exclamations usually comprised of phrases like: Great Abyss, Heart of Rage or Mighty Darkness, which was by far the most popular among them. The people of Wrron, on the other hand, called upon rain, which was exceedingly scarce in their land. Natural, he thought.

"Have you met the spirits?" the hunter asked quietly.

"Yes," Lord Tammutyen said. "I had a pretty adventure in the Lake. But I cannot tell you about it."

"So the legend is true, great Sith?" the hunter asked on. "The spirits of the deceased warriors live in the Lake?"

"It is true," Lord Tammutyen said, nodding.

In the meantime the two other hunters had cut down a tree-trunk which would serve as a pole and went into the river to get the reptile.

"I am interested in your story about the beast," Lord Tammutyen said as the lizard was being tied up to the pole. "Tell me more about it."

"We lived in peace and harmony with all animals until the wars began," the hunter said, lifting the pole along with the other hunters and panting with effort. The animal was very heavy. "But the wars among the tribes have obviously displeased the Great Chief of the Skies. Therefore he sent a beast to punish us for our wrongdoings. We bring sacrifices to the beast whenever a moon is full; but it is still hungry and it still comes out at night to hunt. No one dares to go out at night."

"Where are those caves you spoke about? The beast, it lives there? How do you know, if you have never seen it?" Lord Tammutyen asked as he walked alongside of them.

"It is a vile place, Sith hunter," the hunter said, shaking his head. "There is a narrow passage leading inside, they say, and after only a few paces one can see a gaping hole leading straight down into the evil spirits' realm. We often hear horrible shrieks and roars coming from the cave."

Lord Tammutyen concluded that the hunters knew nothing about the beast and decided to ask Itah about it. But he first had to ask the Dark Lord whether he could go and visit the caves. The idea however appealed to him and he set off toward the village as quickly as he could, with the three hunters trudging along behind him, carrying the king of lizards which was going to be Lord Tammutyen's breakfast.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Perhaps half an hour of walk upstream the two female Sith were having a swim in the river. Tyananna, who had finally started feeling pretty comfortable about being naked in front of people (and open about her sexuality), was wading in the shallow water and enjoying its soothing coldness. Lady Tarralyanna was floating on her back with her eyes closed.

The sun of Luth lay hidden behind a few clouds, what was the cause for excitement in the village as everyone thought it would perhaps rain. Indeed they connected this with the presence of the Sith and prior to their arrival they called the medicine man of the tribe, their prophet and the spirit-caller, who told them that their arrival would be beneficial to the tribe.

As Tyananna waded in the shallows, wiggling with her toes and enjoying the silence, she stepped on something, what made her jump and cry out. Lady Tarralyanna lazily looked up and blinked at her.

"There is something in the mud," Tyananna murmured. "Possibly a bone or something like that. Great Flame, it went right through my skin, the wretched thing."

"It is not a bone," Tyananna said after a few moments.

Lady Tarralyanna looked up again and lowered her feet to stand in the water. Tyananna dipped her head into the water, opened her eyes under water and spotted something buried in the river sand. She dug for a while until she managed to grab it and straightened up. Lady Tarralyanna was standing next to her and the two of them bent over the object with interest. It was a pendant, hanging on a chain, which looked quite undamaged. The pendant itself was shaped as a bird with a crooked beak, a white bird with many feathers which were carved in what looked like stone.

"Curious," Lady Tarralyanna said, furrowing her brow. "It is made of ivory. The people of Pyén Morrien do not have access to ivory, or at least that is what the books say. And the bird itself... I daresay the tribes would make pendants resembling their notorious bird of prey, Gloup. However, its plumage is dark grey and not white. Plus, their beaks are straight. It is crooked on this bird."

"Very interesting," Tyananna said, sitting down.

Lady Tarralyanna took it from her hand and exclaimed.

"It is a talisman," she said at once, sounding surprised. "It is charged with power. Can you feel it?"

"Yes," Tyananna said, sweeping with the Dark side over the pendant and closing her eyes. "It is very old... It comes from forgotten times..."

"When they skies were blue," Lady Tarralyanna continued.

The two of them exchanged glances. These impressions and images have been conveyed to them through the Dark side, as they directed it toward the pendant – and they could mean only one thing.

"The First Age!" Tyananna exclaimed.

Lady Tarralyanna now bent over the pendant with intellectual curiosity blazing in her sapphire eyes.

"Do you think it is possible?" Tyananna asked.

"It looks that way," Lady Tarralyanna said. "And yet, to survive for so long, for so many hundreds of years... it is very strange. Unexpected. Illogical."

Simultaneously the two of them reached out for the pendant and closed their eyes, listening, straining their minds. Tyananna saw a fleeting image of a man's chest, with the bird pendant resting on it. Lady Tarralyanna felt his strength, and as she had a fleeting impression of her being him, she could feel a weapon in his hand. He was very young. Tyananna and Lady Tarralyanna looked up with the eyes of the Force, seeing through his eyes. They saw a large blue sphere which seemed to dominate the blue sky. But as they stared at it, the ground underneath them began to tremble and the whole world started to move. They opened their eyes, gasping and exchanged glances. No such event had been described in the manuscripts dating from the First Age and yet it seemed to explain so much, why the face of the world changed so much and why the one continent split into many.

Carefully, Lady Tarralyanna put the pendant in her handkerchief and the two set off to find the Dark Lord immediately.

Only now there were three Sith wishing to speak to the Dark Lord. Lady Tarralyanna and Tyananna arrived first, but only just. Right as they entered the cave where their Master was resting, Lord Tammutyen pushed the curtains aside with such force he nearly ripped them apart and burst in, his eyes twinkling with excitement. The Dark Lord looked from one to the other, and then chuckled to himself.

"Pyén Morrien is a cradle of all that is ancient," he said. "And the Sith are drawn to the ancient, but also to the dangerous. Now speak, my apprentices."

Lord Tammutyen spoke at once, without paying attention to the two and barely managing to restrain himself. Once he was finished telling the Dark Lord about the dangerous beast, he looked up at him and waited. As much as he wanted to go and see the beast, he knew that if the Dark Lord said no, that he would have to respect his decision.

"That is very interesting, Lord Tammutyen," the Dark Lord said at long last.

Lord Tammutyen desperately tried to fathom out what he was thinking, but it was impossible. The Dark Lord's mind was a locked door made of iron and his expression was as unreadable as ever.

"Let me hear what your sisters have discovered," he said.

Disappointed, Lord Tammutyen leaned aback and listened to Lady Tarralyanna's story. He cast a glance in the direction of the pendant and shook his head. Surely this little thing could not be more important than the beast? But, he was wrong. The Dark Lord's eyes widened as he received the pendant from Lady Tarralyanna and his eyes fixed upon it with interest. That darn little thing, whatever is it, Lord Tammutyen thought angrily, will ruin my chance of having a go with the beast.

"This," the Dark Lord said quietly, "is something extraordinary."

"What is it, my Master?" Lady Tarralyanna asked.

Tyananna straightened up, feeling immensely proud of herself. For it was she who had found it, by stepping on it. This had to mean something.

"To make such a talisman one would need Caelian magic and sorcery," the Dark Lord said. "And yet, they have not been used on it. It has gone through many hard times with its bearer."

He passed over the bird with the tip of his finger, closed his eyes for a moment, and then gently opened them. He smiled broadly.

"This bird is one of the legendary birds which allegedly lived in the First Age, as our scriptures state," he said. "They were said to be guides, protectors of souls and guardians, who appeared to one who aspired to achieve great things. The Sith Lord of the First Age, who wrote the account on this amazing bird, called it the Guardian of Souls."

"Now, a pendant made in the shape of this bird and charged in this way," he went on, "was certainly designed with the intention of attracting such a guardian. But it makes me wonder – if this person was not a Caelian and not a Sith, who had the means and the knowledge necessary to make such a talisman?"

The question remained unanswered and for a few moments the Dark Lord smoked and stared at the pendant, before he wrapped it again.

"Who has found this object?" he asked. Tyananna lifted her hand and the Dark Lord nodded. "I shall keep it for a little while longer, my apprentice, to see if I can learn more about it. But then I shall restore it to you."

"To me?" Tyananna echoed, perplexed.

"Yes, to you," the Dark Lord said. "It came to you; and therefore you must have it."

"As for the legend of the beast," the Dark Lord continued, with Lord Tammutyen sitting more upright now, "I agree it is worth looking into. You conveniently have one more night to devote yourselves to this task before we go and I suggest you all go."

Lord Tammutyen opened his mouth to say that he wanted to go on his own, but the Dark Lord looked at him sternly. He had gone too far. He marched in, made a terrible racket and did not allow the two to speak before he did. Therefore he just nodded.

oooooooooooooooooo

In five days a strange congregation was taking place at the mouth of the Canyon of Hosgor. The tribes, along with their chiefs and chief Growthak camped well away from each other, while the Dark Lord and his army took up the space in between. The three Sith were however too busy talking about everything that happened lately to care about the animosity which was vibrating in the air between the two armies.

The trip to the caves turned out to be a joke, despite of the fact they went there, prepared for everything.

/Flashback

Armed to teeth, they entered the caves, leaving the few hunters who led them there before the entrance. The three Sith approached the hole which allegedly led down into the 'evil spirits' realm' and leaned forward to take a better look at it. The dark hole seemed to have no bottom, but one sweep with the Dark side told them it was not all that deep and there was a creature sleeping down there. It certainly was huge, but it was made of flesh and blood and it was obviously having a nap.

The three tied up one end of a long rope around a rock and began to descend it. It took them ages to get down to the bottom and Tyananna put her gloves on. Lord Tammutyen, however, took his shirt off and merely took his Ptah with him, wanting to face the beast with his faithful sword only.

They found the sleeping creature and tiptoed around it. It was strange that it did not wake earlier, but it woke but when Lord Tammutyen poked it with the blade of his unsheathed Ptah. A large, yellow eye opened and the creature jumped. It was only then the three Sith realised what this creature was – a dragon. It was a large, and, judging by the appearance of its scales, a very old dragon. It swayed on its legs for a few moments and then spat out a torch of fire at him. Tammutyen easily jumped aside. It now occurred to the creature that it was dealing with someone far braver and far quicker than any of those who ever entered its home and thus it kept spitting fire at Tammutyen all around the cave, who evaded it almost lazily. At some point the creature paused, either to draw breath and get ready for a new attack, or to scrutinise this new opponent who survived much longer than any other.

'Dragon,' Lady Tarralyanna thought, deciding that it would perhaps be for the best if she simply spoke to it, to Lord Tammutyen's annoyance.

The dragon checked, turning its large head toward Lady Tarralyanna and Tyananna. Perhaps it did not see them in darkness at first, but the two Sith could see perfectly well through the eyes of the Dark side. The dragon's breath and their own were mists of vapour in the cold depths of the cave, despite of the fire which had been spat out repeatedly by the dragon, and Tyananna was wondering at the fact that the air was still breathable. Lady Tarralyanna knew very well that the ability to spit fire depended on the dragon's age and that if this dragon was as old as she thought it was, that it was perhaps tired and was now gathering strength.

"I can understand you," answered the dragon. However, the two focused on the dragon's thoughts, since they could not really understand its growling. "Who are you?"

'We are warriors of Darkness,' Lady Tarralyanna thought back.

Lord Tammutyen straightened up, annoyed, but nevertheless straining his mind to hear what the dragon would say.

'We can speak to your sort,' she went on.

"I am the only one and there is no other like me," answered the dragon, puzzled.

'Wrong,' Lady Tarralyanna thought. 'We have seen many of your sort; and we can speak to all of them.'

"They look like me? Where are they, warrior of Darkness?" asked the dragon, now turning toward her.

The dragon no longer seemed to be interested in Lord Tammutyen and he shook his head, disappointed. Serves me right for taking _them_ with me, he thought darkly.

'Up north,' Lady Tarralyanna thought. 'I can describe the way to you, if you like. But right now, they are flying to go to war with us.'

"My sort is going to war for you?" the dragon asked.

'With us,' Lady Tarralyanna corrected him. 'After we win the war, your sort will be free and you will never again be hunted.'

"Where are they now?" the dragon asked eagerly.

'Flying toward the Third Continent,' Lady Tarralyanna thought. 'You have never been outside?'

"I have," the dragon said. "When I was very young. But I was hunted; they shot at me and tried to kill me. Thus I have retreated to this cave and have been living here ever since. I only come out at night, when I am really hungry, to search for food."

'You poor thing,' Lady Tarralyanna thought. Lord Tammutyen rolled his eyes. 'Well, soon you will be free to fly around as much as you like.'

"I am old," the dragon said after a pause, straightening up and lifting its wings a little as though it doubted they could still carry its body. 'But I want to leave this place.'

'You listen to me, then,' Lady Tarralyanna thought, approaching it and placing a hand on the dragon's head. 'Wait for the night after this one. And then fly in the direction in which the bigger sun rises. Do you remember the bigger sun?'

"Yes," answered the dragon. "I remember."

'Good,' Lady Tarralyanna went on, still petting the dragon. 'Travel at night, when people cannot see you and do not fly low. Fly as high as you can. Cross the great water – it will take several days for you to do that. And then you shall arrive to the Third Continent. There you should search for your sort. You shall find them; there are hundreds and hundreds of them there, waiting for us, to wage war with us.'

"Thank you, warrior of Darkness," the dragon said after a pause, bowing its grey head. "I have been so lonely all these years, living here on my own. I have begun to believe that I will never see the world again, never fly again."

'You should eat well, to gain strength for the journey,' Lady Tarralyanna thought. 'We shall kill something for you and drop it down into the hole. Wait for the second night. When the second sun falls behind the horizon, leave.'

/End flashback

"Not everything is resolved with swords," Lady Tarralyanna said, sitting beside Lord Tammutyen and eating. He threw her a dirty look.

"Why do they hate each other that much, my Master?" Tyananna asked, noticing for the thousandth time that the people of Pyén Morrien and Chief Growthak's warriors did not mingle, but kept glowering at each other from across their camp. The Dark Lord chuckled and picked up the coffee pot.

"A centuries' old dispute," he said, filling his cup. "Oh, they would not breathe a word about it, so do not bother to ask. I had to slip into many minds before I was able to reconstruct the story."

"The Great War was the turning point," he said, leaning aback. "Most of the ancestors of the people living in tribes in the Land of Pyén Morrien have once lived in the Droddian kingdom, which stretched across this continent. But the Great War tore the kingdom apart from within. Some wanted to fight for their freedom, but there were those who did not want to meddle in at all. And so some went to war and some did not. In the end, they all got their fair share of being beaten; the warriors, what was left of them, returned to their land, whereas those who did not want to meddle in got their land invaded anyway, mostly by the rampant thieves and vagabonds who often appear as a consequence of a long war and famine. Their houses were burned down, their families were killed, and in a way, they got it worse than the warriors, who still had houses to return to and something left of their families waiting for them."

"This old dispute, however, divided the once mighty Droddian kingdom and it split into, more or less, three large parts. Gangar developed into a land of warriors, under the rulers who lived to see the Droddian blood celebrated and honoured, who still had the courage to be warriors despite of all. One tiny portion of the kingdom retreated deep into the land of Pyén Morrien, where they mingled with the Albinians who were already living there and today they live their lives in a way which pleases their deity, meaning, in poverty and as peaceful as possible. You will find that Itah is perhaps one of the few who cannot help his warrior spirit and who honours certain Droddian customs, but only because he has no idea where they come from. If he knew, he would have given them up immediately."

"They hate each other because both sides believe that the other side is responsible for their fates. However, Chief Growthak rather pities them for being weak, whereas Itah and the tribes of Pyén Morrien truly hate the Droddians of Gangar."

Thinking how immature and stupid this was, Tyananna took another sip of her coffee. The four of them, however, felt compelled to look up as there were loud shouts coming from behind the Dark Lord back. They looked at the Dark Lord who rolled his eyes and put down his cup.

"Can't I _ever_ finish my coffee?" he muttered to himself. "But this time they have gone too far. I must intervene."

He got to his feet and headed toward the source of the noise, a threatening figure in black, his cloak swirling behind him as he walked. The three Sith got to their feet as well. There was something very entertaining about the very idea that the Dark Lord's rage was about to directed at someone else, no matter how sadistic that sounded. Two members of Itah's tribe were yelling at four Droddians of Gangar, who looked quite ready for a fight and stood with clenched fists, baring their yellow teeth at the red-skinned hunters. Apparently it all began with a broken water vessel. Who was the guilty party, it was quite difficult to tell, but it did not seem to matter. Both sides seemed to be just waiting for a chance to pick a fight. Now Itah made an appearance to intervene and was pushing his men aback, after what he started yelling at the Gangar warriors himself. However in that precise moment the Dark Lord appeared behind them and lifted a hand before anyone could spot him.

In a second the whole valley flashed and shook as streaks of thunder exploded from his fingers. Many screamed; some threw themselves to their knees; and the group of people at whom his Force Lighting was directed lay trembling and twitching on the ground. The three Sith watched, amazed. They could not control their Force Lighting; it would either scorch their victims or set them on fire, depending on how much power they used for it. But the point was – they could not control it. Force Lighting had a will of its own, it seemed; but the Dark Lord proved them otherwise. It seemed that he could control the Force Lightning by making it do exactly what he wanted. And this time he wanted it to inflict pain.

"WHAT HAVE I SAID?" he roared, lowering his hands.

The group of people who were lying on the ground did not seem to be able to get up, since they still twitched and gasped for air.

"I have told all of you –" he looked around himself, with everyone bowing their heads and taking a few steps aback, "– that I want you to behave like grown men. YOU ACT LIKE SNIVELLING CHILDREN! Picking up a fight like that and hoping I would not know!"

"My Lord," Itah whispered, who seemed to be the first to come to his senses and was trying to stand up. "We just had an argument, that is all."

"I want no arguments, no quarrels, no disagreements," the Dark Lord hissed and grabbed Itah by the collar. The look of rage on his face seemed to force everyone to avert their glances and Itah panted, looking down on his feet. The Dark Lord released him with a jerk and he fell down on his back.

"Am I to send you off with your tasks only to find that my army is fighting against each other and not against my foes? ARE YOU GOING TO DEFILE THE NAME OF SITH?"

Itah opened his mouth, presumably to tell him that he had no such intention, but the Dark Lord was in a towering temper and did not want to hear what he had to say. He reached out with his both hands and Chief Growthak and Itah unexpectedly found themselves being lifted in the air, held around their throats by the steely hands of the Dark side.

The rest of the army stood rooted to the spot and stared. No one dared to make a move. They watched, dumbfounded, as the two kicked about in the air and gurgled, flailing with their arms, their faces getting darker and darker in the beginning until they started to turn blue.

The Dark Lord suddenly let them fall and they collapsed on the ground.

"Now," the Dark Lord said in a voice which was trembling with anger. "Stand up and shake hands. I do not care how you feel about each other, but while you are my allies, you will be brothers."

He waited until the two of them got to their feet, what they did with greatest possible haste. The Dark Lord seemed to be a reasonable man, although he did not tolerate weakness or disobedience, but it now seemed that they crossed the line and provoked his anger. Itah quickly extended his hand and inclined his head, tacitly asking Chief Growthak to do the same. But he did not need to. They seemed to come to an unspoken agreement and everyone watched as the two warriors shook hands and nodded at each other.

"Do not fool yourselves for a moment," the Dark Lord said in a very low, threatening voice, with the both of them looking at him, "that I would not know in case anything happens. Even though I might be miles and miles away, my eyes can see through the Dark side and my ears can hear whispers of animosity of your people. You are their leaders and their actions are your own. You must command them and bear this responsibility with maturity and honour it deserves."

A few minutes after the Dark Lord was gone, Chief Growthak and Itah, along with other chiefs, sat down together and bent over the map of the continent. It was clear they were forced into obedience by fear, but instilling fear was the Sith's traditional weapon which they wielded very well. The three Sith watched the Dark Lord come back and sit down as though nothing happened, glad for once that his rage was not directed at them.


	49. Chapter 48 - Part Four

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I write because I can't help myself. :)

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XLVIII - Inhuman

From Pyén Morrien they rode due south-west and it was not before long they saw first signs of more agreeable vegetation. Land covered in short, although green, grass began to open up before their eyes and the hills and dells announced their arrival to the Kingdom of Iuthsowen. The vegetation of Iuthsowen was not as abundant as the one of Iop-Nalle and Mollián, but it was sufficient for the people to lead peaceful lives, without having to worry about rain. One reason for this was not the climate, for the climate of Pyén Morrien extended to some degree to Iuthsowen as well, but the terrain itself, which allowed the growth of plants, and, of course, the many rivers snaking through it, which offered the land ample amounts of water in the absence of rain.

Iuthsowen was perhaps most famous for its tunnels. The land itself looked as though Narywath had crumpled it up and people often had to travel miles and miles around hills, which would be exceedingly difficult to cross with carts. And thus the people of Iuthsowen perfected their skill of tunnel-making by digging through the hills and fortifying the walls of the tunnels with layers and layers of dark brown soil, which was native to the land and was exported at high prices. While it was moist, it was easy to work with it and shape it according to one's will, but once it was dry, it was as hard as the rock of Mangora and as endurable as the hardest leather of Pallantia.

The road, which the army was currently following, was not a main road, but it was nevertheless built in the fashion which was unique to the land. It was not straight, but rather concave in its shape.

Tyananna had the impression she was riding through an old, deep riverbed, and for a moment she amused herself with the thought of how strange the army had to look, given that if a person was standing beside the road, all he could see were the riders, but not the horses.

The Dark Lord had no allies in the land of Iuthsowen, but he had allies who lived on the islands close to the coast of Iuthsowen, which were generally populated by Caelian half-bloods who escaped the conservatories and left the Caelian society.

The people of Iuthsowen paid great importance to education and science in general and their technique of book-binding was famous across Horukaan. There were many schools and universities across the Kingdom and it was a great honour for a family when one of the children got invited to study at one of the universities. However, the half-Caelians of the isles of Olmoon did not care for such petty institutions, since they came from the great conservatories of Lateen, where, in their opinion, real science was taught. Many times great scholars came knocking on their doors, asking for assistance and advice; and as many times they answered they were done with that life and that they wished to be left alone. They enjoyed learning the customs of non-Caelians and studied other cultures with great interest. Often they were fascinated with simple things, which other cultures took for granted, such as the concept of marriage, the Malaskians' afternoon idling or long conversations Droddians led over strong ale. Those born on the isles of Olmoon learned a lot about different customs as they grew up, but there were always newcomers, who were fresh out of conservatories and were looking for refuge and meaning of life beyond the various Offices and Houses of the Caelians, and who unavoidably always brought a fresh supply of ignorance and wonder for all that was non-Caelian to the isles of Olmoon.

Trying to dress very hard as common Albinians, Droddians or Malaskians, depending on their heritage, it was funny to see them try to adapt the traditional attires to their physique. Caelian blood made them very tall and extremely slender and their non-Caelian blood showed in the colour of their hair, eyes and their skin. But no matter how hard they tried, one could always see they had Caelian blood in their veins.

Tyananna stood watching the little procession of half-Caelians approaching the camp with interest. The half-Caelians were riding ordinary horses, but they looked like little ponies with them on their backs, with their long legs dangling well under the horses' bellies. Tyananna often wondered what kind of animals the Caelians rode and how they solved the problem of their height. Lady Tarralyanna had an answer, of course. They did not ride horses at all, since there were no such animals living in the Oceanic Land of Lateen. When Lady Tarralyanna once showed her the picture of the animals which the Caelians rode, Tyananna laughed herself hoarse. It was a long-necked animal and its legs were so thin that they looked like pincers. Their bodies were thin as well, but it was nothing compared to their necks. They could easily wrap them around their bodies and touch their ears from the other side, so long they were and it was easy for these animals, while being ridden, to fetch, for instance, an almond from the highest branch of a nearby tree.

The half-Caelians spoke a strange mixture of Albinian and Droddian and would not use Caelian for the life of them. They could not deny who they were, but it was amusing to watch them try. Intellectual curiosity and interest in science seemed to be a distinguishing feature of all Caelians and yet Tyananna imagined there were those who did not care about science and who had other interests. And it was stupid, in her opinion, to force every Caelian to take an interest in science or magic, whereas if one declined to join a House or Office would instantly be labelled as a traitor and would be forced to leave the land. But these people escaped the prison and were now free to pursue their own interests. She congratulated them on their dare and courage.

"Salutations, Lord of the Sith, our Emperor," said the foremost in line.

He had these words this with sepulchral seriousness which nearly made the whole army laugh.

"Certain events came to pass which require immediate council," he spoke on, his brown eyes – apparently he was half-Albinian, Tyananna thought – sweeping over the three Sith.

"Very well," the Dark Lord said, nodding, his expression not betraying that he was amused with their attitude. "Let us sit down."

"When you have taken us into your confidence and service, Lord of the Sith," said the half-Caelian, "you have undoubtedly been aware that we are no great warriors and that we have never held a sword in our lives. We have accomplished everything you ordered, of course, and the issue concerns the Jedi and not the tasks you have given to us."

The fearless and almost impertinent look he had on his face while he spoke to the Dark Lord annoyed the Sith, but they equally knew that this was just a Caelian trait they could not help. Whatever happened, it was clear that the half-Caelians waited for the Dark Lord to arrive and did not want to do anything on their own. Their characteristic calmness could almost be interpreted as carelessness, but the Sith knew that the Caelians rarely showed agitation and always sat down to think of a solution to the problem, while anyone else would be beside himself.

"Tell me all about it, Magaa," the Dark Lord said placidly.

The half-Caelian leaned forward and spoke to the Dark Lord as one speaks to tutors and teachers. It was obvious that the half-Caelians regarded the Dark Lord as their mentor and treated him accordingly. The respect was there; but the fear was not. Tyananna wondered whether the Caelians even knew what fear was.

"Riding down the southern border while we were fulfilling the tasks you gave us," he said, "we have encountered a group of Albinians, who were very happy to see us. As you know, we rarely leave our islands, because we wish to be left alone."

"Therefore I imagine the Albinian scholars were surprised to see us, but that they also wanted to talk to us and they invited us to have lunch with them in a nearby village. We believed it would be beneficial for us to speak to them and gather information about what is going on in the Kingdom. As we talked, we found out that they saw a couple of Jedi who asked a lot of questions. Naturally we knew that it would be of interest to you to know what they were doing here and asked them where we could find them. They replied that they looked rather busy and that they seemed to be looking for someone."

"This seemed to be worth investigating and we followed the trail of the Jedi to one village," he continued, glancing over Tyananna, who shamelessly stared back at him.

The half-Caelian looked away in the, for the Caelians, characteristic, arrogant and calm fashion, his expression not betraying what he was thinking.

"We have seen them lodging in one of the inns on the outskirts of the village," Magaa continued. "We did not want to approach them or talk to them, because we do not know what powers they have and we did not want to jeopardize our mission."

"A wise approach," the Dark Lord remarked.

"But we have spoken to the landlady, asking her to sell us some food, saying we were travelling to Olmoon," Magaa continued. "This was my idea. The Jedi have already retired for the night."

"The landlady said that they had been there for two days and that they asked a lot of questions about the land and the village," Magaa went on. "She thought the questions were very strange and funny, but she answered them all the same. But when I asked her whether they were in pursuit of someone, someone from the Kingdom of Iuthsowen, she shrugged and laughed. She said that a man who pursued someone did not sit in the garden for five hours, talk in a hushed voice and read strange scriptures. They more seemed like they were waiting for someone, she said."

For a moment the Dark Lord looked thoughtful and the half-Caelian simply sat there and stared at him.

"You will choose two or three of your people who know where this village is and who know their way around the Kingdom well," the Dark Lord said. "My apprentices will ride with them and investigate, whereas we shall proceed with the original plan."

He turned to the three Sith. Lord Tammutyen was sitting bolt upright, his face glowing. Jedi!

"I want you to find those Jedi," he said. "Interrogate them; find out all that you can. And then kill them and dispose of their bodies. They must not be found and you should not give them the chance to reach out through the Force to the other Jedi, least of all to Quallath."

"We understand, Master," Lady Tarralyanna said, patting the excited Lord Tammutyen on the back. "We shall leave as soon as we eat."

"May I ask what you think about this, Lord of the Sith?" Magaa asked.

"It is a fact, rather than a conjecture," the Dark Lord said slowly, pulling at his pipe, "that the Jedi are aware of our presence. However, their knowledge about us is very limited; they can only guess what is going on. But, I would say that they are most certainly on the move, trying to find us, and that this little excursion of theirs proves it. Of course, it is only a matter of time before they hear about the war."

"However, we should find out as much as we can about their plans," he added.

oooooooooooooooooo

Thus the three Sith saddled their horses and departed with three half-Caelians riding ahead of them, heading deeper into the Kingdom of Iuthsowen. They found that they enjoyed the company of the Droddians and Albinians who were scared stiff of them far more than they enjoyed the company of the half-Caelians, who had millions of questions about everything.

"We have been spoiled," Lady Tarralyanna remarked as they sat on the ground some ten hours later. "The way the soldiers addressed us and treated has clearly spoiled us. Here we have minds which are untainted by fear and all of a sudden their curiosity annoys us. They only wish to understand us, that is all. Their intentions are not wrong."

"But we cannot give them reasons for all that we do, for they are not Sith," Tyananna said. "They cannot understand the ways of the Force. They want to justify everything using logic; and the Dark side is not always logical."

"Took me years to accept that," Lady Tarralyanna sighed.

The half-Caelians were like little children. They asked questions about Lady Tarralyanna's tattoos; they wanted to know what sort of combat training they did; and they even asked questions about the colour of Tyananna's hair. Now they were sitting a little away from the three Sith and were eating, but the Sith could nevertheless feel their glances on their backs. And they seemed to be writing everything down, since the Sith saw them with little notebooks in their hands, scribbling away.

"Nan'Tha, you have been spoiled," Tyananna said, who was petting her horse.

The horse was lying beside her and seemed to enjoy the petting, since he closed his eyes. At some point, the petting stopped and he lifted his head, taking a sniff at Tyananna's pipe. He sneezed and shook his head.

"Yes, probably not the right thing for you," Tyananna laughed. She glanced around herself. "I would levitate my water flask into my lap, but those three will have questions about that if I do it."

The three half-Caelians would of course have tons of questions about anything that was unusual and Tyananna thought it was getting a little tiresome, even though they were just curious. She sighed as Nan'Tha pushed his snout into her fist, encouraging her to continue with the petting.

"Water, Nan'Tha," she said wearily. "I am dreadfully thirsty."

The horse suddenly straightened up and headed in the direction of their possessions. Tyananna took another pull at her pipe, thinking that he finally figured the petting session was over and went to find the other horses. But to her enormous surprise, he soon returned with her water flask which he carried in his teeth and dropped it into her lap.

"Why..." Tyananna exclaimed, sitting up. The half-Caelians stared at the horse with interest, but Tyananna did not care whether they would have questions about this or not. She was fascinated.

"You clever, clever horse!" she said, rubbing his head. "You understand everything I say! Clever, clever Nan'Tha."

The horse closed his eyes as she continued with the petting. Lady Tarralyanna grinned, whereas Lord Tammutyen watched them with the word 'irrelevant' written all over his face and his pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth.

"Watch this," Lady Tarralyanna said with a grin. "Waddi'He!"

She repeated the horse's name once more and within seconds they saw the horse emerge from the bushes and approach his mistress. The half-Caelians sat very still, watching. After this they will have millions of questions about their horses and their breeding, Tyananna thought. All horses the Sith rode had a shining black coat, which looked almost blue in the moonlight. But Waddi'He had a white star on his forehead and that was how Tyananna distinguished between the three horses.

"Petting," Lady Tarralyanna said to the horse in Sith.

The horse gave an excited blow through the nose and lowered himself on the ground beside Lady Tarralyanna, putting his great black head carefully into Lady Tarralyanna's lap. Tyananna exclaimed, whereas Lord Tammutyen merely grunted. Lady Tarralyanna began to pet her horse, who closed his eyes, lazily swishing with his tail to keep the flies away.

"I have had him only for a few years," Lady Tarralyanna said with fondness, scratching the horse behind the ears. "But we became friends at once."

"So our horses do not allow other people to ride them, do they?" Tyananna asked.

"Oh, I believe Waddi'He would allow _you_ or Tammutyen to ride him," Lady Tarralyanna said. "But one should be a Sith from him to allow it. I do not think it would be wise for anyone else to try it. Waddi'He can be an absolute beast. He can turn people into a pulp, can you not?"

The horse swished with his tail.

"Tammutyen has not trained his horse, has he?" Tyananna asked, looking toward the grumpy Lord Tammutyen, wanting to somehow drag him into the conversation, since he seemed to be in a foul mood. The half-Caelians were driving him mad and he was not trying to hide it. However, the murderous looks he directed at them did not seem to intimidate them.

"He has, of course," Lady Tarralyanna said.

"He knows how to kick someone with his hind legs and trample over him on command," Lord Tammutyen said. "He knows how to bite someone's head off for me and he knows how to bump into another horse, if I happen to be chasing after someone."

"All of the useful things, in short," Tyananna said, grinning at him.

oooooooooooooooooo

The landlady of the inn where the Jedi had lodged was just carrying cabbage when the Sith and the half-Caelians arrived and she told them, in a trembling voice, that they departed perhaps twenty minutes ago. Lady Tarralyanna surreptitiously verified whether she was telling the truth, what served to frighten the old woman even more, but at this point the Sith agreed their priority was to catch the Jedi. She stormed back into the house as soon as they were gone and the Sith headed in the direction she indicated.

The three Sith now no longer paid attention to the three half-Caelians who trudged behind them and agreed without talking about it that Lady Tarralyanna should be the one to search for the Jedi through the Force. She could do it very subtly and they wanted to have the advantage of the element of surprise. Miles and miles ahead, the Jedi lifted their heads as the eyes of the Dark side stretched toward them, but they suspected nothing. It was only the wind, as cold as ice and as sharp as a knife, playing with their hair.

Now in pursuit, the three horses galloped side by side, their nostrils flaring, their eyes flashing due to the constant swirl of the Dark side around them, carrying their riders deeper into the night, across the small streams, through the thickets, uphill and downhill. It had been so long since Tyananna galloped this fast and it seemed to her that she would never get used to Nan'Tha's pace.

'They are a few minutes ahead of us,' Lady Tarralyanna thought.

Tyananna reached out for her M'Hoor which was resting on her back and pulled it out of its scabbard.

They stopped on the top of the hill overlooking a river dam and agreed it was the right time to openly use the Dark side. Whether the Jedi sensed them or not was now beside the point. They sensed the Jedi at the other side of the river dam. As the Sith collectively swept over their surroundings with the Dark side, they looked up and to the Sith's surprise, jumped to their feet and drew their swords. Perhaps a powerful Jedi master was with them, who was constantly on alert? Or perhaps they finally learned how the Dark side felt like?

The three Sith spurred their horses and Lord Tammutyen's horse jumped easily across the river, carried by the Dark side and the two other horses eagerly followed, enjoying the sensation the Dark side was offering them.

As soon as they landed on the other side, they jumped out of the saddles with their weapons in their hands and turned to face the Jedi. There were seven of them. Lord Tammutyen threw himself with a loud, animal roar at them, swinging with his Ptah. Time was of the essence and the three Sith knew they should not give the Jedi the opportunity to reach out to the others through the Force.

Tyananna landed beside Lady Tarralyanna and threw herself at one of the Jedi without further ado. She heard Lady Tarralyanna give a loud, shrill battle cry as Tyananna quickly kicked the Jedi in front of her with her foot in the chest and jumped over his head to swing with her M'Hoor at the other one. He barely managed to lift his sword as Tyananna sent him flying through the air. She jumped after him and stabbed him while he was still in the air, something Lord Tammutyen taught her. As she landed and turned to face the other Jedi, she felt burning pain in her leg, but she quickly tried to ignore it.

Of course this was no ordinary wound, since the Jalá ore had such an effect on the Sith and she cursed herself for being so reckless. The man she was duelling was a Jedi master, she saw it at once. But Tyananna did not care. She was furious because she managed to get herself injured and her leg felt useless. Were all those years of training for nothing?

She lifted a hand and the Jedi did the same. The two sides of the Force collided and Tyananna clenched her teeth, pushing him away. She decided to use all her knowledge about the Jedi and their way of fighting. And she knew for certain that the Jedi were not very good at attacking, but were pretty good at defence. She kicked off hard and jumped in the air, swinging with her sword. She felt like exploding with anger and for once she could perfectly understand why the Sith taught that rage gave one focus and strength. She attacked as soon as she landed, not allowing herself to pause or the Jedi master to think of a way how to defend himself. He made a quick sweep with his sword and her M'Hoor flew through the air. Perhaps he thought it would be easier to fight a Sith without her sword, but he was wrong. Tyananna did not care about losing her sword and decided to resort to what she called Tammutyen-style. She felt it would be the last thing the Jedi master would expect her to do. She spun around and punched the Jedi in the face as hard as she could. It seemed that she managed to accomplish what she wanted and in the one short moment she had she grabbed him by the neck and the chest and gave a quick, hard tug. She heard an audible crack and he slackened up in her arms. She let him fall and stared at the heap of limbs at her feet.

She felt disbelief wash over her, realising she just managed to kill someone with her bare hands. Lord Tammutyen's lessons seemed to have sunk in. As Lady Tarralyanna appeared by her side, breathless, she realised what she had done. The orders of the Dark Lord were to interrogate the Jedi and not to slaughter them. It was supposed to be the other way round.

"Oh, he is dead," Lady Tarralyanna said, stating the obvious.

Tyananna turned around to look at her and absently pointed her finger at nothing in particular, at what her faithful sword zoomed into her hand.

"No matter," Lady Tarralyanna said consolingly, patting her on the back. "I left one of mine alive. Let us find Tammutyen."

They arrived just on time to see Lord Tammutyen standing with a crazed expression and squeezing the Jedi who was hovering in mid-air in front of him with the Dark side so hard that blood was spurting everywhere.

"Tammutyen!" Lady Tarralyanna roared. "Let go! We must have some left to interrogate!"

Lord Tammutyen's eyes swivelled in her directed and he unclenched his enormous fist. The Jedi fell down on the ground with a dull thump. Lady Tarralyanna swept with the Dark side over him and threw Lord Tammutyen a cross look.

"Too late," she said. "You killed him."

And after what they saw, it had to be a miracle for the Jedi to remain alive, Tyananna thought.

"I left one alive," Lord Tammutyen said, shrugging.

"Oh really?" Lady Tarralyanna spat at him, crossing her arms on her chest.

Tyananna's glance fell on one of the Jedi who lay under a tree with his skull smashed in thousand pieces. Given his natural physical strength, when combined with the Dark side, the results looked something like this.

Lord Tammutyen snorted and marched toward one of the Jedi who was lying on the ground, grabbed him by the collar and lifted him single-handedly in the air.

"You see?" Lord Tammutyen said. "He is alive all right."

Lady Tarralyanna breathed with relief once she ascertained herself he was telling the truth and grabbed the Jedi, just in case Lord Tammutyen dropped him.

"I figured one was quite enough," Lord Tammutyen said, straightening up. "I blocked his breathing canals and he fainted. I left him there."

"Very clever, Tammutyen," Tyananna said.

Lord Tammutyen was covered in blood and he did not seem to mind. He passed with his tongue over his lips as he glanced around the battlefield and grinned.

"I also have one who is alive," Tyananna said proudly as she reached out with the Force for the Jedi she attacked first. "I stabbed him, but he is still breathing."

"Oh, that is indeed good news," Lady Tarralyanna said. "Each has one alive. Excellent! Let us gather them."

"Oh, but Tiya! You are wounded!" Lady Tarralyanna cried, looking down at Tyananna's leg, who had been limping around all this time. Although she thought at first she would faint due to the pain, at some point it seemed to get weaker and weaker. Now she just felt numb.

"Yes, but I feel all right now," Tyananna said, whereas Lady Tarralyanna impatiently pushed her down to sit, hissing at her. "It does not hurt as it did when it happened."

"A Jedi stabbed you? In that case it might be serious," Lady Tarralyanna said, pulling up Tyananna's pants and leaning forward to examine her wound. Lord Tammutyen appeared by her side a second later, his chin glistening with blood.

Lady Tarralyanna's gasp drew Tyananna's attention and she looked down on her leg. Was it that serious? But... the wound did not look serious at all, she concluded. What made Lady Tarralyanna gasp was the liquid which was smeared all over her leg and which seemed to be coming from the wound. It was not blood... Or was it? It looked too thick to be blood but apart from that fact, it was also not red. It was blue.

"Heart of Rage! Great Abyss!" Lady Tarralyanna cried, passing with her fingers over Tyananna's wound. "What is it?"

"I... I feel fine, really," Tyananna whispered absent-mindedly.

The only thing she could think about was whether the wound would heal quickly. She had to be ready for the war. It was impossible that she managed to get herself injured before the grand battle by some nameless Jedi.

"It hurt when it happened, but then I just sort of forgot about it," she added, looking up.

"Here," Lord Tammutyen said, holding out a pot with the healing paste, staring at Tyananna as though he saw her for the first time in his life.

Lady Tarralyanna took it from him and began dressing Tyananna's wound without a word. When she was done, she stood up and looked at Tyananna with a serious expression.

Tyananna had no idea what to say, no idea what to think. She just sat there and stared at her sister in the Dark side, completely speechless. At long last Lady Tarralyanna swept with the Dark side over her and nodded.

"Darkness is with you," she whispered. "Your body seemed to be recuperating fast."

Lord Tammutyen still stood there and gaped at her.

"Let us take care of the prisoners," Lady Tarralyanna said, turning around.

Tyananna could feel their glances on her back as she bent over the Jedi she stabbed and pulled him to his feet.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Fluffy violet clouds enveloped the rising Luth, making it look as though it was resting in a bed of clouds. Tyananna looked up to the sky. Lady Tarralyanna came from one of the stars they could see at night. She is the Daughter of the Stars and Lord Tammutyen is the Creature of the Night, she thought – but which am I? I am only a silly, short, ordinary sort of woman who escaped the Jedi Temple, who betrayed the Order and joined the Sith. And yet, she knew that it was ridiculous to think that way. If she was just some ordinary woman the Dark Lord would had never accepted her as his apprentice. Her own development and her work seemed to speak for themselves and yet Tyananna's own perception of herself remained as it was when she last left the Jedi Temple.

Tyananna knew she should be proud of herself and the way she fought. Her knowledge about the Jedi and the way they fought seemed to make up for the fighting skills the other two Sith had. And she wondered what the Dark Lord would say to this new development of matters? She had no idea what she was and what happened to her. She was pretty certain it was the consequence of her encounter with the spirits in the Bloodshed Lake. But the fact remained – again she had no idea what or who she was.

"How do you feel?" asked a voice beside her.

Tyananna looked away from the small sun and narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"If you ask me that one more time, I shall..." she growled, clenching her fist.

Lady Tarralyanna laughed and lifted her eyebrows at her.

"Do what?" she asked in return. "Break my nose? All right, you seem to be your old self, ready to punch anyone in the face who annoys you. That is well."

Tyananna sighed and looked down on her feet.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said quietly.

"Certainly," Lady Tarralyanna said at once.

"What do you think this means?" Tyananna asked.

Lady Tarralyanna knew at once what she meant, since it was something all three were constantly thinking about.

"It might sound very vague and like some old stereotype," Lady Tarralyanna said after a while, "but I think it means you are a Sith."

"I am serious," Tyananna hissed.

"I am serious as well," Lady Tarralyanna said with a smile. "We are inhuman, Tammutyen and I. Me, because I have been born that way. And Tammutyen is inhuman because he killed himself and the Dark side decided it was not the time for him to die yet. And you..."

She glanced over her and her expression softened.

"You never told us what happened in the Lake," she said quietly. "But I suppose this is the consequence of it. You wanted to be made inhuman, am I right?"

Tyananna nodded without a word.

"Well, it seems you wish has come true," Lady Tarralyanna said simply. "We do not know in which way the Dark Lord made himself inhuman, but he obviously is not human. You are following in the footsteps of the Sith, Tyananna. Now you too are not human."

She made it sound so simple, Tyananna thought. Was it that simple? Of course the fact that her blood had changed its colour and thickness was probably the tip of the iceberg. Tyananna had no means of establishing what exactly changed, but it was pretty obvious that there was more.

"Can I ask a question in return? Why is it so important for you to be like us?" Lady Tarralyanna asked without blinking.

Tyananna looked at her furiously. She hated when Lady Tarralyanna spoke her most intimate thoughts aloud. Sure, she could hear them but that did not mean she had to say them aloud. After all, people think about all kinds of things and some of those things are pretty silly.

"Your intrusion in my thoughts is very rude, you know," she said through her teeth.

"You are welcome intrude in mine," Lady Tarralyanna said sincerely. "But since we are all Sith it is kind of natural that we know each other's thoughts. I do not see it as anything rude."

"Easy for you to say," Tyananna growled. "You do not have strange thoughts, silly dreams or fantastic ideas. Your mind is a bookshelf and there is not once ounce of dust in it. Everything is perpendicular and sorted alphabetically in there."

"Your dreams are not silly," Lady Tarralyanna said. "Well? Will you tell me or do you want me to just go away and leave you alone?"

"I will tell you," Tyananna said grumpily.

Lord Tammutyen had gone hunting and fruit picking. Tyananna hoped he would stay in the forest for a little while longer.

"You are the very ideal of what I want to become," Tyananna admitted. "You are fearless, your combat technique is stunning and you have such a mind which would shame even the best scholars of Iuthsowen. You follow your intuition without making any mistakes and your mind is untainted by silly emotions. I know what you are going to say, so do not say it."

Lady Tarralyanna opened her mouth to say something, but she shut it and sat staring at Tyananna who threw her a moody look.

"And even though I am getting closer to it," Tyananna went on, "you and Tammutyen will always be different. You will always talk about my 'feminine cycles' and ask me about 'human things' and point out that my humanness is a serious obstacle on my way to perfection, which you have obviously attained. And yes, I am jealous. See? Just one more human thing for you to talk about."

"It is what makes you unique," Lady Tarralyanna started, but Tyananna angrily hissed and clapped her hand over Lady Tarralyanna's mouth.

"I am not finished, so do not interrupt me," she snapped.

Lady Tarralyanna nodded and remained silent.

"And by becoming inhuman, whatever that means, the daughter of whoever I might be – though I am certain it is more probable I am Shepherd's daughter or Stable boy's sister..." she went on angrily, whereas Lady Tarralyanna felt compelled to chuckle.

Tyananna sighed.

"I do not want to be an outcast and someone who is still on probation. I want to be a Sith master. I do not just want to get a new ring and a title – I want everything to change."

"If that is your expectation," Lady Tarralyanna said at length. "I have expected nothing; and not much has changed, I can assure you. Old things got better; and new things clunked right into place, like missing pieces of a puzzle. My perception of the Dark side changed and I have been given power and the ability to use such power. Such things would have ripped me apart before. Like Force Lightning, for instance."

"But, if you expect everything to change, if you want everything to change, then it will," Lady Tarralyanna said patiently.

She rolled up Tyananna's pants and looked down on the wound which had in the meantime healed. Whether the healing paste was to thank for the quick healing or Tyananna's new anatomy, it did not matter. A few more hours and the skin would be as good as new.

"This is a clear proof that everything already has changed," Lady Tarralyanna said, while Tyananna snorted and pulled out her pipe.

Suddenly Lady Tarralyanna laughed and picked up a lock of Tyananna's hair.

"But if you want more proof, take a look at your hair," she said with amusement in her voice.

Tyananna grabbed a lock of her hair and glanced over it. She could see nothing extraordinary and she snorted, directing a furious glance at Lady Tarralyanna and thinking she was pulling her by the leg.

"Tiya," the tall Sith said patiently. "Hair grows, does it not? Mine does, although I am not human. Only Tammutyen's hair does not grow anymore."

"So?" Tyananna asked aggressively.

"So, if it grows and if we have been travelling for months now, then how do you explain it is still red?"

Tyananna blinked, staring at her.

"How often did Peetah dye your hair for you?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, now grinning broadly.

"Every two weeks," Tyananna answered, confused.

"There, you see," Lady Tarralyanna said, running her fingers through Tyananna's long hair. "It is all red and there is not one hint of your mouse brown anywhere."

Tyananna decided to stop by the nearest lake or river and take a look at her hair. Still thinking about it – and knowing that the true colour of her hair used to serve as a dead give away, a sign that underneath all that she was still human – she accepted Lady Tarralyanna's offer to braid her hair.

Lord Tammutyen appeared some time later, carrying a bundle in his arms, which he unceremoniously dropped down on the ground and stared at the two.

"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked, amazed, staring at Lady Tarralyanna's work.

Tyananna's head was now a nest of criss-crossing braids, which were however made in such a way that they did not move.

"Lefayenn taught me," Lady Tarralyanna said. "It is childishly simple, really. But quite practical. The braids do not move, you see."

"I want them as well," Lord Tammutyen breathed, glancing over Tyananna's braids. "They are brilliant!"

"Well, have you brought us something to eat?" Lady Tarralyanna asked while her fingers moved as though on their own accord.

"I most certainly have," Lord Tammutyen said, nodding at the bundle. "Three fat fish for Tyananna and two oversized melons for you. I found some nuts, too."

"That means you have fulfilled your task," Lady Tarralyanna said, nodding seriously. "You can have the braids if Tiya agrees to cook the soup and fry her fish."

"No problem," Tyananna said.

Lord Tammutyen rubbed his hands and quickly took her place as soon as Tyananna's hair was done. He settled down on the grass and filled his pipe, while Lady Tarralyanna began to comb his hair.

The soup was cooked, the melons were peeled and Tyananna was frying her fish when Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna sat beside her. His long, black hair was now braided and he looked very pleased about it.

"They have been making notes on what you just did to our hair," Tyananna said, pointing at the half-Caelians who were talking to each other with their close and pointing at Lord Tammutyen.

"I am a storeroom of patience," Lady Tarralyanna said, throwing them an annoyed look. "But I must confess they are somewhat annoying."

"We must think of a nickname for you," Lord Tammutyen remarked, pulling out a handful of intestines from one of his jars. Lady Tarralyanna looked away, revolted.

Tyananna beamed at him.

"Why, I have just remembered something from my childhood," she said suddenly.

Lady Tarralyanna looked at her with interest. She loved to hear every little anecdote from her childhood, no matter how insignificant and stupid they seemed to Tyananna. She stopped talking about it since her childhood only reminded her that she had an ordinary childhood and though Lady Tarralyanna was curious, she did not ask. However, for some reason now she wanted to share something with them.

"Children used to cut their hands and join them," Tyananna said with a broad grin. "They called this becoming 'blood-brothers'."

"It was reserved solely for men?" Lady Tarralyanna asked, sounding disappointed.

"No," Tyananna said, shrugging her shoulders. "I have done it with my best friend and she was a girl."

"Why the name, then?" Lady Tarralyanna asked. "Brothers? Oh, wait, do not tell me. It is a custom."

She snorted, whereas Tyananna shrugged.

"What does one gain by becoming blood-brothers with someone?" Lord Tammutyen asked. The idea appealed to him.

"They allegedly share a bond," Tyananna answered.

She never really thought about it. It was just something most children did when they really wanted to share a bond with one of their friends and since it was something forbidden and dangerous, it was appealing.

"Why would one want to share a bond with someone?" asked Lady Tarralyanna.

"Well... I did it with my friend because we wanted our friendship to last. Of course, we were just children and it is just the sort of thing children do."

"Nothing that has anything to do with blood is childish," Lord Tammutyen said seriously. "I should know. And I say we should try it. It sounds very interesting."

"Agreed," Lady Tarralyanna said excitedly. "Tammutyen just ate, so it is fine. What do we have to do?"

"Well, we need a clean knife for starters," Tyananna said, surprised with the fact they wanted to do it. She just mentioned it for the sake of mentioning it and she had no idea the two would actually want to go through with it.

Lord Tammutyen pulled out his curved dagger at once and thrust the blade into the fire. Anyone else would had washed it, but fire was of course a better choice.

"It is cold enough," he announced after a while, looking up expectantly at Tyananna.

"You can go first, then," Tyananna said. "You just need to cut your palm and we will do the same. Then we will join hands so that our blood can mix."

Lord Tammutyen nodded and made a quick movement with the dagger in his right hand. Several droplets of the black liquid which was his blood rolled down the side of his palm, but the cut started healing before their very eyes. He cursed.

"Well," Tyananna laughed, "We have forgotten about that. You will do it after we are done and then quickly press your palm against ours. All right?"

"Understood," Lord Tammutyen said, passing the dagger on to Lady Tarralyanna.

Lord Tammutyen stared angrily at his healed palm for a moment, after what he looked up to see Lady Tarralyanna draw the dagger slowly over her tiny palm, right down to the wrist. She is certainly very thorough, Tyananna thought, watching her. Silver, gleaming droplets began rolling down Lady Tarralyanna's palm and she quickly passed the dagger on to Tyananna.

As she pressed the blade against her palm, she felt her heartbeat quickening. Would she see the familiar, dull red again? Was it all a dream?

Before she lost her nerve, she pressed the blade deep into her skin and stared. At first the droplets issuing from the cut looked like water, as though her blood was somehow diluted. But then the familiar, thick blue liquid began moistening her skin and she grinned, passing the blade absent-mindedly to Lord Tammutyen. It had not been a dream. It was real all right.

Lady Tarralyanna leaned forward and held her palm close to Tyananna's. They both watched Lord Tammutyen cut himself once again and then quickly press his palm against theirs. Tyananna was uncertain whether what followed next was just her imagination, but she shuddered and felt the other two do the same. It felt as though someone had just upturned a bucketful of icy-cold water over her head. An image of the Black Flame passed through her mind and she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the cold palms of the other two pressing against hers.

"That was amazing," Lady Tarralyanna muttered first, so excited she could barely sit. "Such an amazing custom!"

"This never happened before," Tyananna said, thinking about it. "I mean, I have never felt what I have felt just now."

"Well, it figures," Lord Tammutyen said, shrugging. "We already share a bond."

"Now, this is interesting," he said, looking down on his palm and inclining his head. "My blood can heal almost everything; but the cut remained. Look!"

The both of them leaned over his palm, staring at it. There it was, the incision he made, and it looked as though it healed, but barely. There was a thin line indicating where he cut himself and there were traces of black, blue and silver, as though someone had a rather foolish play with paint. The two other Sith quickly washed their palms and looked down. They saw exactly the same thing.

"Brilliant," Lady Tarralyanna muttered with her eyes gleaming. "Simply brilliant."

Miles and miles away, sitting in the saddle of his black horse and riding at the head of his army, the Dark Lord lifted his head and furrowed his brow. He closed his eyes, reaching out with the Dark side to his students and remaining to hover there for a moment. Then he withdrew quietly and smiled to himself.


	50. Chapter 49 - Part Four

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I write because I can't help myself. :)

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XLIX – The Black Banner

Late at night there was a commotion at the Jedi Temple as a lone rider arrived to the gate of the Temple and began to hammer with his fists against it. Master Quallath was called and he ran down the white stairs, pulling his dressing gown as he did so, his cap askew on his head. Something was out of place. Of course, that was nothing new. Now he felt tremors in the Force almost on a daily basis and felt nothing could surprise him. However, he was in for a big surprise that night.

"What news?" he yelled at the few Jedi who stood beside the gate with torches in their hands.

"Master, he is a messenger from the Land of Mollián," one of them yelled. "It has been attacked. Invaded!"

"Holy Force!" master Quallath exclaimed. "It is as I feared. Speak, man! Who attacked it?"

"The army consisted of Malaskians and Albinians, but they carried a banner I have never seen before. A black banner," the messenger said, a sturdy little man who was clearly barely sitting in the saddle. The whole courtyard was filled with the deep, painful breathing of his exhausted horse which was bathing in foam.

"Black banner?" master Quallath echoed.

"I left the village just as it was attacked, as I have been ordered by our governor," the messenger said. "We knew you were our last hope, that you had to know. But I fear that there is nothing left to defend, Jedi master. Hundreds and hundreds of them burst into the village and I have seen similar sights as I rode toward the border. I hid away from the army and I am certain I have not been seen. But I fear that my land now lies in ruins, Master Quallath. We are no warriors; and the attacks occurred so quickly, that the people had no time to defend themselves."

"Malaskians are no warriors either," master Quallath muttered, pacing and thinking about his troubled dreams before they woke him. How come he had not felt the attack through the Force? "Why Malaskians? I would expect Albinians; Droddians, certainly; but Malaskians? Why Malaskians? Where did they come from?"

"We believe they are Pallantians," the rider said.

Master Quallath stopped and stared at him.

"Pallantians would never hurt a fly," said a Jedi master standing next to Quallath, shaking his head gravely.

"No," master Quallath said. "It is not as I expected. It is worse than I expected. This Sith managed to find allies. There are probably many of them; she must have worked for several years in secret, gathering up an army right under our nose."

"And Pallantians are her allies?" one Jedi asked in disbelief. "How did she accomplish that? Those people are no warriors; they have no idea what it means to go to war!"

"She must have forced them somehow to do it, threatened them or twisted their minds, take your pick," master Quallath muttered moodily.

Then he lifted his glance and looked at the messenger as though he noticed only then he was standing right beside him.

"Leave your horse in our care and come inside," he told the man. "You must be exhausted and you cannot go anywhere in this state. You can, however, eat and drink something and tell us about any details which may come to you."

On very rare occasions had a common person been invited to the Jedi Temple and this only with the explicit permission of master Quallath. The messenger breathed with relief and thanked him.

"And in the meantime," master Quallath continued quietly, as the messenger was being led inside by a couple of Jedi apprentices, "sound the bells. I expect that if this Sith spent years looking for allies, that Ruthok is certainly one of them. We must be on alert."

It was the strangest Council session they ever had. The messenger was sitting with the members of the Council in one room on the ground floor and the Jedi masters watched him eat all the while nervously casting glances at master Quallath. Yes, the man rode night and day in order to arrive as soon as possible to the Jedi Temple, but they could not wait to hear more details. They wished he would finally stop eating.

"Which path have you taken in order to arrive here?" master Quallath asked as he pulled out a large map of the Continent and spread it out on the table.

The messenger bent over it and began tracing a line across the map, whereas the Jedi bated their breaths. Master Quallath glanced over the assembled Jedi and sighed.

"Have you seen signs of war on your way here?" asked master Quallath.

"I have seen a battalion of Droddians singing rather loud battle songs," the messenger replied. "But they just rode together, that was all."

"They could be allies of the Sith," said one Jedi. "Droddians would be the first choice of a Sith."

"Yes," master Quallath said. "I agree. Where have you seen them? In which direction were they riding?"

"I have seen them on the border of Pallantia," the messenger said. "They were however riding in the opposite direction, due east."

"East?" master Quallath echoed, bending over the map.

His finger paused on the name of a large country spreading alongside of the eastern coast and he gasped.

"But of course," he whispered, more to himself. "They are riding for Padorrian. They want to cross the ocean!"

The Jedi exchanged worried glances. That did not sound very well.

"They can either board ships in Padorrian or in the Empire of Larria," master Quallath went on. "And I think we now got the answer to our question about the new Larrian Emperor. He is undoubtedly an ally of the Sith."

"Emperor Plátaa?" asked one of the Jedi in disbelief. "He used to be a ship builder. He is completely benign! And I heard he did not even want the throne, that they had to persuade him to do it."

"Lies!" cried master Quallath, whose eyes flashed. "Deceit! They are riding for the coast and we must be there first. We must stop them."

He got to his feet and glanced over the assembled Jedi.

"Meditate," he said firmly. "We must try to verify our presumptions. And in the morning, we ride for Padorrian. Does everyone here agree with me?"

The Jedi masters slowly lifted their hands in the air. They had heard quite enough to come to the same conclusion as master Quallath.

"This war came too fast. She is well prepared; and I wonder how long has she been living in hiding; how long has she been planning this war? How long have our eyes been looking and have not seen anything?" he muttered as he paced the room.

"We have denied the existence of evil for far too long, wishing to believe that there was only good on this world," he went on. "But not any more. I have seen evil up close; and I believe in it. As I believe every single word about the Sith I have read; of what they are capable of, of their atrocities, of their hatred and their rage. I believe all of it. I have believed in the power of good for far too long and so many things slipped right past my nose."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The Dark Lord of the Sith opened his eyes and glanced over his surroundings. His three apprentices were on their way. As it seemed, they did not find out much. The Jedi were merely scouting. But he did feel the Dark side warning him about the inquiring glances of the Jedi sweeping with the Force over the world. He knew that the word of the war had reached them; and he knew he had to act. It was a wonder he managed to hoodwink them for so long, anyway.

At the moment war was raging on all other continents. The Dark Lord extended his senses to his allies and what he saw pleased him. The war was going very well. Now he could focus his attention on the Jedi. Of course, with an army large enough, he could attack the Jedi Temple and slaughter all of them. But that was not how it was supposed to be. Light was supposed to live on, though it would be given a cage. He knew that the hardest part of the war-waging would be the Jedi. To engage in an open fight with all of the Jedi would be foolish and the Dark Lord was everything but foolish. He did not want any casualties, least of all to see his apprentices injured or dead. No, he had to solve this problem in some other way.

Therefore he concocted a plan. Some time before they left the Sith Temple, he saw something in his visions that made him think about it. He remembered the old story about two deities fighting for supremacy. But neither won. In the end, the both of them lost. Of course the Dark Lord felt drawn to such legends, since they always reminded him of the power of Darkness and the power of a Sith, who could willingly change the outcome of the future. In his hands, the future was just a figurine made of clay, which he shaped according to his will. And the Dark Lord had in mind to change the outcome of this legend – he would use his will and the wills of his apprentices in order to change the future. He would change the ending of the legend.

Something like that had never happened in the history of Horukaan – but the Dark Lord of the Third Age was going to be a pioneer, who was going to write a whole history book by himself. His apprentices, who arrived to the camp on the border of Padorrian early in the morning, sensed at once that he had news. They also knew that the time had come – they could see it in his eyes.

They sat down around him and he told them about his plan. They listened with grave expressions, not saying anything. Dark Lord's glance paused on Tyananna, who stared at him with her lips pursed. His newest apprentice. The Dark Lord saw a lot of things during his long life, but he had never met anyone like her. At first he could not understand why the Dark side seemed to be drawn to her. He was even more surprised when the Darkness chose her as his apprentice. He could not see anything special about her. But now he knew she was indeed special. This strange woman sitting right in front of him had accomplished more than his other two apprentices had. She died – and was reborn again. He could feel that something had changed as soon as she dived out from the Lake of Bloodshed. She looked around herself like a person who had no clue who or where she was. Her will and her desire to be more powerful and stronger made it possible for her to get exactly what she wanted. And she wanted to be inhuman.

The discarnate Sith called her 'Rider of Darkness' and the Dark Lord felt the name was fitting. She had come to him in the eve of the war; and she would help the Sith Order to win it. He had no doubts about that. Tyananna was ready for the last battle.

"Some would call it a desperate move," he said to his apprentices. "But it is everything but desperate. We are going to play a game according to the Jedi rules and we are going to appeal to that what they hold dearest and most sacred. If they decline, they would be denying their very existence and the purpose of their lives. We will win this game and show the Jedi and the world why it would be just for us to rule. Because we are simply superior."

"It will be an honour to partake in this game, my Master," Lady Tarralyanna said.

"I would not miss it for the world," Lord Tammutyen said.

Tyananna was silent. She stared at her hands as though she was wondering whether they would be able to do what the Dark Lord demanded of her. The three Sith looked at her.

"I am ready, Master," she said quietly.

"I know you are," said the Dark Lord.

"Now, let us go and announce the news to the army," he said, getting to his feet.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Master Quallath was riding at the head of a long procession of Jedi masters and apprentices and was lost in thought. Master Feth rode by his side, occasionally casting worried glances at the Head of the Jedi Order, but respecting his desire not to speak.

In a few days they would know. In a few days everything would change. The suns would rise as they always did, but the world would change. This was the right moment to think about death and make peace with it. They had no idea what awaited them, but in their fervent meditations they saw what only could be an army, which was camping somewhere. Master Quallath was certain they were on the outskirts of Padorrian, which was a vast land covering the greatest part of the eastern coast of the continent. But there was still no sign of the Sith.

There was little left to be said. Everything that had to be said, had been said. The Jedi knew very well that a battle awaited them and that they would engage in a real battle for the first time in their lives. Sure, they studied combat techniques and trained with their Jalá swords; but none of them ever thought they would be actually fighting one day. Fighting seemed to superfluous, so unreal, so barbaric in this world of light and peace. And yet they knew that even if they had been giving their best to help the world and nations to live in peace, that there would always be warmongering. That there would always be those who lived for killing and fighting. The Jedi Order tried very hard over the decades and hundreds of years to teach the people that fighting was not the answer and never the solution. And now they would not only engage in a battle but would also do it with the enemy which had been feared for thousands of years – the Sith.

It was hard for master Feth to understand why anyone would want to be a Sith and why would anyone want to even try to use the Dark side of the Force. His only conclusion was that some people were born evil and that such individuals attracted the Dark side. It offered and promised them power; and human beings would always be hungry for power. Some would go to any length possible to gain it. And world dominance seemed of course like a likely choice of a life goal for a Sith. What could be more appealing to such an individual, who was governed by anger and hate, than world dominance?

"We have seen her and fought with her," master Quallath spoke suddenly after hours of riding in silence. "It is our advantage and we must use it."

"If she has an army riding with her, and it looks that way," master Feth said, relieved that master Quallath spoke at last, "do you think the army would attack us if she commanded it to do so?"

Master Quallath looked at him in surprise.

"You see, it might be all right for the army, for the Malaskians and Droddians and whoever not, to attack villages and claim them for her. But would the army really attack us, the Jedi? Everyone knows who we are – we are protectors of the people and bringers of peace."

Master Quallath looked thoughtful for a while. At long last he nodded gravely.

"Who knows what she promised them?" he asked. "Who knows how she coerced them into doing it? I would not exclude it. Moreover I would say it was probable. And we must be ready for it, Feth."

Master Feth looked ahead at the forest toward which they were riding. Wherever they went, they were greeted by people of whichever race and treated as saviours and heroes. It was hard to believe that those people would attack them. And yet, he feared that master Quallath was right.

In the meantime the Jedi managed to find out which lands got attacked. They had visions of burning houses and screaming children – and it made their blood run icy cold. The war seemed to be everywhere and the only question they could ask themselves was – how was it possible that they had not felt it before? How come they had been so blind, so deaf? The Force had not been trying to tell them anything and that confused them. Was it some kind of a trick of the Sith? How powerful was she, anyway? The Jedi had no idea what exactly a Sith could do and not knowing was driving master Quallath crazy. Master Feth had never seen his friend and mentor so angry and so zealous as when he announced they were riding to Padorrian. There was a fire burning in his eyes which reminded him why exactly he had been chosen to be the Head of the Order. Master Quallath was not only determined this time, but Master Feth also felt that the Force was magnetically drawn to him. It swirled around him like a cloak of light until it hurt his Force eyes to look at him. The Force seemed to know what he intended to do and it was going to support him in his intentions.

"Whatever happens," said master Quallath, "Never forget who you are. We put our trust in the Force; and not to do so would mean breaking our oaths. We will never sink to the level of the Sith and will keep to our ways and to our ideals. Otherwise we are men without purpose and name."

"I would never dream of betraying my oath," master Feth said quickly.

"Not right now, no," master Quallath said. "But evil has many faces. Some of them are tempting; some are simply hideous and horrible. Either way, it is temptation and you should never allow yourself to fall to the temptation. In such moments you should remember who you are and follow your path."

Master Quallath looked up and shook his head. The sky was deep violet and was gradually growing darker.

"It all started with master Bakku," he whispered. "Had I only listened to him! But I wanted so hard to believe in some ideal of peace that I was blind like an old dog. I could not see or hear what he could; and I believed I was so much wiser and better than he was. Deep within I believed he was talking nonsense, I admit it. I was an egoistic fool who could not see further than his own nose."

He cursed and shook his head. Master Feth had never heard him curse and it was a little disconcerting.

"Do not blame yourself, master," he said to the old man. "Neither of us felt anything and neither of us believed master Bakku."

"And he had to die for our idiocy," master Quallath spat.

"What did he see?" he said quietly after a while. "Only the Force knows. And he was not the first victim of our idiocy. Two other good Jedi had to pay the price. And all this time I kept repeating the same thing over and over to myself and refused to admit I might have been wrong."

"You know, I feel like I am riding to my own death," he went on. "Surely this is the punishment for my blindness and stupidity. But the Force knows I have learned my lesson. Feth," He grabbed him by the sleeve and looked at him. The expression on his face and his words made master Feth swallow. He had never heard him speak like that.

"If I die, I want you to succeed me," he told the younger Jedi master in a hoarse voice. "I want you to be the next Head of the Order. You hear me?"

"Master Quallath..." the other Jedi started, but the old Jedi hissed impatiently.

"It is my will," he spat. "And promise me something. Promise me you will never act as stupidly as I have. Promise me you will always uphold the Jedi ideals and never abandon them. Guard our knowledge and our customs at the cost of your life; and serve the Force with the whole of your being. Promise me that, Feth!"

"I promise," master Feth whispered, staring into the crazed eyes of his mentor.

The old man released him and nodded to himself.

"But you are not going to die," master Feth said.

"I know I am, my old friend," master Quallath whispered. "I can feel it in my bones. They are getting heavier to carry. And this body is getting more and more tired, Feth. I can feel it in the Force."

Master Feth said nothing to this. He had no idea what had gone into his mentor, but he decided it would be for the best to just leave him alone. Master Quallath blamed himself for everything and wanted to carry the burden on his own shoulders. Of course it was wrong. The Jedi Order was a whole and one person could not be blamed for the mistakes of the whole Order. It was a democratic order and all decisions were brought by voting. If master Quallath was guilty, then the whole Council was guilty as well. But the news of war had been the last straw for master Quallath. He was a broken man and he made a martyr out of himself. And no matter what master Feth said would not help. He wanted to be alone with his misery and his bitterness and master Feth had to leave him to it. But he would be damned if he let his old friend fight this war on his own.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Gimya Arnthok listened, dumbfounded, as the Dark Lord explained his plan. He could not believe his ears. It was madness. No, it was worse than madness. The army was to stay here, at the border, and wait for orders, whereas the Dark Lord and his apprentices would ride to meet with the Jedi.

In the course of time Gimya had gotten used to the fantastic things the Sith could do and he did not wonder any more about the fact the Dark Lord knew that the Jedi were heading this way. He stopped wondering about a lot of things a long time ago. And he got to know the Dark Lord as a calculated, determined man who liked to keep to himself and who, when issuing orders, had no doubt in his mind it was exactly the right thing to do. Therefore this decision of his struck him as uncharacteristic and more than just unsettling.

Lefayenn, who had been invited along for the meeting, was sitting beside her brother and listening with her eyes wide. Her glance skimmed over the apprentices of the Dark Lord, who simply sat there and smoked with serious expressions on their faces. They knew they would be riding to their death and yet they seemed perfectly calm and unperturbed. Lefayenn's glance paused on Lady Tarralyanna, whose sapphire eyes were fixed on the trees behind her. She was the very ideal of the woman Lefayenn wanted to become. Everything about the slender Sith awed her. And Lefayenn felt her stomach clench upon the very thought she might die. Lady Tarralyanna was fighting for an ideal she believed in; and she was ready to die for it. For Lefayenn there was no nobler purpose in life than that. Lefayenn spent most of her life fighting for things she believed in and her very presence here was the standing proof of it. She managed to persuade Gimya Arnthok to ignore the customs of their land and take her and her friends along to fight. She considered this an accomplishment which the people of Montague would not forget as easily.

And though her brother and the rest of the Fellowship told her to keep away from the Sith and not try to talk to them, though they were dead scared of them and the Dark Lord, Lefayenn saw them as a group of people who merely wanted to fulfil their life goals. Perhaps she was a simple archer who grew up on a horse farm and who had no idea about real life; but Lefayenn admired them for that and stood, with her heart and soul, by them. Of course she was afraid of them; but in a very strange way, she could understand them.

And as she watched them share a simple meal under a tree, she could not stop the tears which began rolling down her cheeks. The Sith solemnly levitated some red fruit which was unfamiliar to her and began to eat it without speaking to each other.

"What is wrong?" asked Gimya as he passed by her.

Lefayenn wiped off the tears and shook her head.

"I wish I could go with them," she whispered. "I wish I could help them somehow."

"Help?" echoed Gimya. "Do not even think about it. The Dark Lord would kill you if you interfered with his plans."

"I would not dream of interfering with his plans," Lefayenn said sadly. "But I wish them all the luck in the world. I wish them all the help Narywath can give them. I do not want them to die."

Gimya hissed angrily and sat down beside her.

"There is something very wrong with you," he whispered into her ear. "Do not mention Narywath in front of them. They do not believe in deities and they would take it as an insult."

"They believe in themselves," Lefayenn said unabashed. "I can understand that. But I am not so strong."

"They believe in nothing," Gimya cut in. Lefayenn looked up.

"You really do not understand them, do you?" she asked.

Gimya sighed and searched for her brother with his glance. He would make her see reason. He was afraid she might go to them and say something foolish and get herself killed. And as annoying as he found her, he did not want her to die.

"I am going there," she said as the Dark Lord got to his feet and the three Sith ignited their pipes. It meant that they were done with their meal and would now talk. Lefayenn studied their customs and could predict what was going to happen next. They were very precise in their habits.

"What!" Gimya cried, but Lefayenn was already on her feet. He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back. "Are you out of your mind?"

Lefayenn pushed him away and headed in the direction of the Sith before he could grab her again. He stood confused for a moment, since he did not expect such a reaction from her, but the next moment he quickly got a grip on himself and sprinted after her. The Sith lifted their glances and peered at Lefayenn under their hoods.

"I am sorry, but she..." Gimya started, puffing with annoyance.

Lady Tarralyanna lifted a hand and beckoned to Lefayenn, who smiled broadly and headed over to her without further ado.

"Leave," Lord Tammutyen growled in Gimya's direction.

Gimya felt compelled to turn around and retrace his steps back to the place where his companions were sitting and staring at him.

"She lost it," he muttered angrily to himself as they looked expectantly at him. "She has gone completely crazy."

"Sit, Lefayenn Uruquel," Lady Tarralyanna said, patting the grass beside her.

Lefayenn did as she was told and looked around herself. She had no idea what she wanted to say, but she knew she had to come here and speak to them.

"I just... wanted to tell you..." she began. "I can understand why you are doing what you are doing."

The words began spilling out of her mouth without her being aware of what she was doing.

"And I want you to know that I would do anything to help," she went on, feeling the sapphire eyes resting on her.

"Your companions do not seem very happy with the fact you are here," Lady Tarralyanna remarked.

"No," Lefayenn smiled. "They think I have lost my mind. But ever since I met you... I cannot help myself not to admire you, for what you do."

The sapphire eyes watched her for a moment and Lefayenn bated her breath.

"What do you believe in, Lefayenn Uruquel?" the Sith asked her.

The question took her by surprise and for a moment she stared stupidly at her.

"I believe in freedom," she said at long last. "That every person has the right to live his life the way he wants to."

"And yet you are aware of the fact that the world is going to live according to our rules when we win this war," Lady Tarralyanna said.

Lefayenn's heart leapt. So they were certain they would win. They had to know something she did not. She felt joy pervading her and a burden lifted from her heart.

"If by rules you mean that there would be no more squabbling or wars, then I welcome them," she said.

She had no idea what sort of rules the Sith was talking about. But she remembered what the Dark Lord told Itah. Her brother told her about it. He did not want the tribes to fight among themselves. And Lefayenn could vaguely see where he was going with this, if no one else could.

"What does your deity have to say about it? Does it welcome our rule? Or does it curse us?" asked Tyananna.

"Perhaps..." Lefayenn said thoughtfully. "Perhaps Narywath does not care about the world."

"You do not really believe that," Tyananna snorted.

"If he did, he would not have allowed the Great War in the first place," Lefayenn said. "And I... am not sure he even exists. Praying to him brings me nothing; I learned I have to do everything by myself, if I want something. Because nothing can just fall down into my lap. That sort of thing only exists in fairytales."

She used to listen to stories about the Great War when she was a child and she knew that many died in the war. And as a child she could not understand why a deity like Narywath would allow something like that to happen. Lefayenn was full of questions no one wanted to answer and gradually she stopped asking them and did things her own way.

The Sith exchanged glances and Lady Tarralyanna's hood turned toward Lord Tammutyen. He nodded. Next it turned toward Tyananna and she nodded as well. Lefayenn stared. She knew they could speak to each other without use of the words, but it looked kind of eerie.

"We are going to leave at dawn," Lady Tarralyanna said. "And we are going to come back victorious. Until then, I want you to keep a secret and tell no one about it. Can you do that?"

"Of course," Lefayenn said quickly, her heart quickening its beat.

"We want you to be the next ruler of the Land of Montague," Lady Tarralyanna said. "We know you are the right person for it. You will be our representative in the Land of Montague and you will carry out the will of Darkness."

Lefayenn opened her mouth to say something, but she could not make herself speak. What?

"The Dark Lord agrees," Tyananna said.

"Now go there and eat your dinner. Think about our victory. Think about the future of Horukaan. And do not share what we just told you with your companions," Lady Tarralyanna told her.

"I promise," Lefayenn whispered, staring at her.

"Here," Tyananna said, pulling something from her pocket and handing it to her. "It is a talisman which is going to help you on your way."

"Do not doubt in yourself, Lefayenn Uruquel," Lady Tarralyanna said.

Lefayenn returned with a pendant of a bird in her hand to her companions, turning it over in her hands. Its presence felt almost comforting. She heard about talismans, of course, but she never actually saw one. She thought it was just something the Caelians did and had no idea why the Sith were in possession of one.

"What is that?" Gimya hissed at her.

"They gave it to me," she said, putting it around her neck.

He hissed, making a move as to grab it, but Lefayenn's eyes flashed and she pushed him away.

"They gave it to me," she said angrily. "It is mine to keep."

"It will bring you ill luck," whispered Gimya.

"No," she said, bringing herself into his face. "You are the ill luck, Gimya Arnthok."

She strode away, leaving him stand with his mouth hanging open. One glance in the direction of the Sith dissuaded him from chasing after her. For some reason the Sith seemed to like her and Gimya was not foolish enough to bring their wrath upon himself. He would leave the wretched woman alone.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

At dawn, Lefayenn Uruquel was standing with the pendant hanging around her neck and watching the Dark Lord and the three Sith leave with a strange feeling of peace in her stomach. She knew it was going to be all right. The sun rose as it always did, but Lefayenn noted it hid away behind the clouds as the four black horses headed eastward, leaving the army behind. Silent tears poured down her cheeks she did not bother to wipe off. Her good wishes were with them; but she doubted they needed them.

When they disappeared behind the horizon Lefayenn lifted her glance to the skies and shook her head. Narywath was not there. And they did not need him. It seemed that someone finally managed to answer her questions she asked when she was a child. The Sith seemed to be able to do everything on their own and they did not need any deities to help them. Lefayenn always wanted to believe she could achieve anything she wanted. It seemed at last that they confirmed her hopes and what she always believed in. She turned without a word and headed back to the camp, followed by hundreds of glances.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

At the time Mongrap was having an audience in the palace and was welcoming emissaries from various counties of the Droddian Kingdom. Behind the throne hung a large black banner which seemed to block everything else from view and the emissaries, once they knelt before him and expressed their allegiance to their new King, glanced briefly over the black banner which instilled fear into everything alive, before they backed away. It must be the end of the world, they thought.

Black banners flogged in the wind atop of the highest spires of the abbeys of the Iop-Nalle and the priests sat in silence, feeling shadows falling upon the world and spreading through it like poison. Narywath had forsaken them. There was nothing else left to do but to pray for peace and go back to their usual routine, which suddenly felt meaningless and empty.

Emperor Plátaa sat on the balcony of the Imperial mansion and stared at the empty docks and quays in which stretched in front of him. The same black banner hung over the entrance to the mansion, Plátaa's final expression of allegiance to the Dark Lord. He knew he could not do anything else but wait for the army to return or for the messengers to come. He knew that many people wanted him dead once he showed his true loyalties and he had to walk around with a handful of bodyguards. But at least the Empire fell without a lot of blood being spilled.

One by one, the provinces and the counties of Horukaan hoisted black banners and Darkness spread into every corner of the world. The Jedi Temple stood ghostly empty, with little Padawans being guarded by the nannies and the servants who lived at the Temple, awaiting the return of the Jedi who rode to war. The white banner of the Order had never looked sadder and more jaded, beaten by the wind and rain. The tall, double doors leading into the Jedi Council chamber were locked and the chairs in it stood silent and waiting, silent witnesses to the glorious past of the Jedi Order which was hundreds, thousands of years old. The eyes of the light and Dark side fixed upon the Land of Padorrian and the two silent groups of people who were closing in on each other.

The Dark Lord rode with his eyes closed and the three Sith galloped behind him. So they rode for hours without saying a word while the animals sprang into cover, watching them ride past. The world was trembling in anticipation and clouds covered the skies, enveloping the world in welcome and soothing darkness.

Lady Tarralyanna's eyes were fixed upon the horizon and her noble, youthful, almost child-alike features were frozen in a serious expression. Tyananna rode by her side, her sword clanking as her Nan'Tha followed the horse of the Dark Lord, seemingly understanding the general air of seriousness which reigned among the Sith. Lord Tammutyen did not feel like smoking for once. Instead his fingers held the reins firmly and his dark eyes reflected the dark clouds above them.

The whole world suddenly seemed insignificant and the eyes of the Sith did not see anything around them. Their horses galloped as one and as the sun of Cyrron rose higher and higher behind the veil of clouds, the ocean slowly loomed up in sight.

The Jedi rode in twos from the opposite direction, watching the dark clouds with a sense of foreboding. The eyes of master Quallath rested on the horizon and as he watched the trees fleet past, he suddenly felt a whisper of the Force to him. He lifted his head and listened. Before his mind's eye he saw a famous statue of the maiden, which stood on the coast of Padorrian, with her one hand outstretched, as though in silent salute. His brow furrowed and he suddenly turned his horse and spurred it harder.

"Master," panted master Feth, who managed to catch up with him. "Have you felt something?"

"She is waiting for us," master Quallath replied in a determined voice. "And I know where."

"Have you seen it through the Force?" master Feth asked.

"Yes," master Quallath replied, his eyes flashing.

The whole procession followed him, wondering what was it that he felt, knowing however that he must had felt something.

"That is good, right? That the Force told you?" master Feth asked, feeling a shimmer of hope rising within him.

"That is indeed well, Feth," master Quallath replied.

"Where is that we are heading?" asked master Feth.

"To the mouth of the Aalyan river," master Quallath replied. "She is waiting for us by the statue of the maiden."


	51. Chapter 50 - Part Four

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I write because I can't help myself. :)

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. L – Aalya and Morchia

Haze rose over the hills of Padorrian and life slowly began to wake as the sun of Cyrron announced its arrival. The violet blush in the east slowly parted the veil of mystery and chased away the night. Ghostly silence enveloped the land, trembling in the anticipation of what was to come, of what was going to take place. It was as though the world knew; as though the very blades of grass and dandelions which bounced to and fro in the gentle wind, were expecting something to happen, a foot to tread over them and announce the end of the world as they knew it.

Whisper echoed round the gorge in the east, hidden behind pink mist which rose from the depths of it, where the water of the ocean mixed with the Aalyan river, descending to the ocean level in a breath-taking cascade. Water thrashed down upon the moss which covered the rocks and as the first ray of sunlight fell upon it, it gleamed like a shower of crystals. Pink berries tugged at the long branches and large apples, which had just been washed by the dew, dangled over the gorge. The frogs beneath the pools of swirling water, which was getting ready to rejoin the father Ocean, solemnly croaked as a shadow crept over this paradise on Horukaan.

Water thrashed down into the gorge in a very steady rhythm, which it had been keeping since the dawn of times. A lament sung by a choir of colourful birds echoed the gorge, waking the late sleepers and light fell upon the pebbles bathing in foam in the depths of the gorge, making them gleam like diamonds. It dawned; and the world woke.

Suddenly the water changed its rhythm. The crystal clear water which was swallowed by the bottomless, dark pit, ceased to swirl about; there was a moment of silence, as it began to gather energy and stamina to reverse the process. Boom. The ground shook and then remained motionless. The birds which had been chirping upon the branch high above the abyss, ceased with their carefree gossip and looked round. Boom. Seven lizards crawled across slippery moss and leaned their heads toward the source of the noise. It was coming from the very bowel of Horukaan itself. Boom. Slowly, the pit filled with water and it filled, until it reached the rim; it spilled over it, and the pit began to spit water, at first slowly, but then faster and faster. Boom, boom, boom. The bowel of the world began spitting water in a steady rhythm instead of swallowing it, beating a battle tattoo which echoed the colourful woods of Padorrian.

The surges withdrew and exhaled upon the shore as though exhaling for the last time, allowing the silent and ominous trickle of water from the very heart of the world to join them. Even the bravest creatures did not dare make a sound. The mocking bird knew that this was no time for making a racket as it used to do and it sat silent and watched. The many years, many eras spent in silence, in continuous flow, in continuous change of night and day, had finally come to an end. The statue of a maiden with a hand in the air, holding a white a dove on her palm, made in size which was perhaps twenty times bigger than the size of a grown Albinian, shook as well. The sparrows which had been sleeping on her stony hands until then took off; but not that one dove. It remained there, etched in stone, fortified in faith; and her immortal and stony eyes looked toward the heavens, expecting judgement.

What looked like shimmering grey clouds turned out to be birds in the distance, which flew in many flocks to the gorge, environed it, and then settled down upon the branches of the many trees overlooking it. From one side heavy, grey clouds appeared, riding swiftly upon the wind and approaching the gorge on its mighty wings; and from the other side, the sun of Cyrron rose, illuminating the world, chasing away the few clouds which attempted to get in its way. The grey clouds reached the sun and slowly began to creep over it until the world was veiled in darkness. The whole world bated its breath and waited for the epic battle to take place.

Master Quallath had come to the very place he had seen in his vision and now the Jedi settled down to camp here. They were too nervous and too worried to do anything and yet there was nothing else left to do, but wait.

The majority of the Jedi cooked something to eat and assembled around the camp fire, trying to make a conversation, but whatever they said sounded forced and insincere. In the end they consented to eating their breakfast in silence. Master Quallath sat upon a rock overlooking the ocean and stared at the waves thrashing violently against the shore. No one dared to disturb him. Some tried to offer him food, but he declined each time, absently waving off and continuing to stare at the ocean. His whole being was with the Force; he listened, he strained his senses, until his surrounding became small and insignificant. He waited for the call and nothing else was important in that moment.

The suspense was affecting everyone. They had no idea what they were doing there, why they had come there, or what they were supposed to do. They had only master Quallath's word that this was the right place to wait for the Sith, that she would be here and yet they had neither seen nor felt anything that might allude to her presence. And they were beginning to believe that master Quallath was taking this very personal and had perhaps lost his sense of dimension. After everything they had seen through the Force, the cities and villages attacked and burned down, they knew for a fact that a confrontation with the Sith was inevitable and that she was out there, somewhere, concocting plans. But somehow they did not believe it would happen there, on this peaceful spot, away from everything, with only one hint of the presence of humanity in the shape of Padorrian art, the beautiful maiden statue built at the mouth of the Aalyan river.

They had long given up trying to speak to him and were sitting away from him, while he sat staring at the ocean and mused, his brow furrowed in thought as shadows crept across his mind which only seemed to exist there. But then something roused all of them – the distant sound which resembled drumming, which made everyone's hair stand on end. The Jedi slowly got to their feet, skimming over their surroundings with the Force, whereas master Quallath literally jumped to his feet. He reached out with the Force, but he could not sense anyone.

Hissing angrily, he unsheathed his sword and marched inland, where the drumming was coming from. The rest of the Jedi were at his heels, following him, as he ran like mad through the bushes, impatiently pushing away the lianas brushing against his face and hands, his feet producing a dull pounding sound on the soft ground. He arrived to the edge of the gorge, which overlooked a dark pit, and paused there. Here, the Force told him, is the source of your unnatural noise. He furrowed his brow, staring at the pit. Water is not supposed to be coming out, he thought; it is supposed to be going in. And the water from the waterfall is not supposed to be flowing like that toward the ocean, as though driven there by some strange, unseen force. There is something unnatural at work here, he thought; something is not right.

It was too quiet; even the birds had gone silent, on a place where everything should be teeming with animal life. And yet all was silent; it was listening, lurking, preying. He looked up to the branch above him, sensing a presence in the Force close to him, and set his eyes upon a large iguana, which was staring at him with its eyes wide as though asking him what he was doing there. The Jedi stood still and silent behind Quallath, busy with their own impressions and sensations. They could not deny that the Force was in tremor; that something was at work here, something alien, a force they had not seen or felt before – but what could it be, they asked themselves, that the Force could not know and identify? And master Quallath had the answer – it was the Dark side. That was the source of all evil; that was that source of all of his woes.

"Are you looking for someone, perhaps?" a voice suddenly echoed through the gorge.

The perfect acoustics of the place amplified it and it rebounded from the cliffs, making it sound even eerier than it already was. Master Quallath jumped as though stung from the back and quickly reached out with the Force. The voice laughed; and the laughter once again echoed the cliffs. But he could sense no one through the Force; no one was there, no one could be speaking and he was quite alone in the woods with his Jedi. But of course, he thought; all of this anxiety and fear had made me truly blind. The Sith could make herself invisible.

"If you are of the Sith," he yelled in a strong voice, "then I am looking for you!"

The voice was male, it was true; but Quallath, in his eagerness to ascribe all that was unnatural and sinister to the Dark side, supposed that perhaps this Sith could change genders, just as she could make herself invisible. The whole speculation about what she could do, about the powers the Dark side gave to her, was driving everyone in Jedi Order mad.

"And what would you do with me, if I was indeed a Sith?" the voice asked.

"Show yourself!" master Quallath yelled in turn. "I am standing right here for you to see me, where you can easily kill me! It is in the nature of the Sith to skulk around and hide, is it?"

He laughed. The anxiety and the worry were now bursting out of him and though the rest of the Jedi thought he was pushing it too far, they remained silent, watching everything through the Force. After a few moments, an answer came.

"I shall," the voice spoke. "But only if you promise you shall not use the Force... yet."

"Are you afraid?" master Quallath laughed.

"There are hundreds of you," the voice answered calmly. "It would be an honourable gesture, coming from a master Jedi."

Master Quallath straightened up and thought about it. He had honour, all right. If he had been blind so many times, he still had some honour left. He would remember who he was – a Jedi.

"You have my solemn promise, Sith," he answered. "As I promise that no Jedi shall act against you... yet, as you said."

"I shall hold you to your word, Jedi," the voice answered promptly. "Equally I give you mine."

Quallath fell to ponder what use to him might be the word of someone like a Sith, at what he sensed presences before him, right across the gorge, in the bushes. He began to count, as there was movement in the trees; his heart missed a beat, thinking that he had perhaps felt it wrong, that the Force was still in tremor, that he was hoodwinked by the Dark side, at what the first figure emerged from the bushes, coming out in daylight for everyone to see it.

It was the figure of a man, he was certain. The same was wrapped from toe to head in a black cloak which dragged behind him over the moist grass. He walked slowly and carefully, in a long, measured pace. He was hooded, predictably; and master Quallath could not see anything apart from his wide, black cloak. After him came another figure, very slender and tall, which was, he was certain, the figure of a woman. However, as he skimmed with the Force over them, he could not note to which race they belonged. They were there, yes, they were flesh and blood, and he could see them with his own eyes; but the Force simply passed through them. How they were doing it? Yes, they had been invisible until now and the Force could detect them now, but that was about it.

This second figure in a black cloak might had been a Caelian or a half-Caelian, he thought. It was certainly tall and slender enough. But master Quallath was not given time to ponder about it, as a third figure emerged from the bushes, following the second one. This one was clearly a man, possibly a Droddian. He was broad-shouldered and seemed to be strong as an ox. Even his voluminous robes could not hide that. His long stride and the way he moved revealed great physical strength, there was no doubt about it. The two of them came to stand beside the first figure, keeping their hands inside their cloaks. However, master Quallath saw a hint of a black glove in the depths of one of the sleeves.

Just as master Quallath decided on what to say next, a fourth figure in black came out, to everyone's growing amazement – there were more of them? How many of them were there? This figure was that of a man, master Quallath thought at once. However, the man was rather short, which indicated Malaskian blood. He came to a full stop beside the last figure in black robes and turned to face the Jedi without a word, his face hidden in the shadows of his hood, his hands in his sleeves.

And then everything was silent. The four figures in black cloaks stood unmoving on the other side of the gorge and the Jedi stood on the other side, paralysed with shock and unable to move. But master Quallath felt nothing could surprise him any more. They came here, expecting to see one Sith – and instead they were facing four of them.

"Are there more of you?" master Quallath asked.

The very moment he said this, he felt stupider than his words might had sounded. The first figure chuckled a little, by the looks of it, and then broke out of the line. The Jedi wondered of course how master Quallath could believe the Sith that they would not attack him, but the truth was, master Quallath really did. The Force ascertained him that it was all right.

"You are rather rude, Jedi," the Sith said. "You have have been looking for us all this time... and we have come out where you can see us. And now that we have, you will not even introduce yourself."

"You know my name, Holy Force," master Quallath growled angrily. He would not take lessons in good manners from a damn Sith. "But you have not given me yours, either."

"Why do we not meet somewhere where we do not need to shout?" the Sith asked calmly. "There is a handsome little clearing a little away from here. Keep to north-east for ten minutes and you will arrive there. We shall wait for you there."

He was about to turn, but then he stopped, as he obviously remembered something.

"Oh, one last thing," he yelled. "For persons of our fame... it would be quite shameful if we broke our promises, would it not? My word still holds. And yours?"

"Yes, Sith," answered master Quallath.

The hood of the Sith nodded in his direction and he turned away from him, waving at the other three. He disappeared in the bushes again, closely followed by the other three. As soon as they disappeared out of sight, master Quallath turned to the Jedi.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" he cried impatiently. "Let us go."

"Master, is it not strange that the Sith want to speak to us?" a Jedi master asked carefully.

She hoped that their Head of the Order would start talking to them at last.

"Not in the least," master Quallath answered with a quick laugh, leading the way down the side of the cliff, which was steep and slippery. "There are hundreds of us and only four of them – of course they want to talk. Come on. And do not forget what I promised for all of you."

Whispering and speculating about the Sith, the Jedi followed him in a line. The sight of the four figures in black robes kept hovering before everyone's eyes. It was not necessary for them to say it – because whoever looked at them would know at once they could be nothing else but servants of the Dark side.

Master Quallath could not understand why the Sith had not brought their army with them. There were four of them and yet hundreds and hundreds of Jedi. Surely they were not as stupid as to think they could fight the whole Jedi Order and survive. Master Quallath was on alert. He knew they had some kind of a trick up their wide, black sleeves but as far as the promise about cease-fire was concerned, he was pretty certain they would keep to their words. He was beside himself with curiosity to find out what the Sith wanted to talk about. The whole world was being engulfed by the war they started and yet the Sith wanted to just talk. As they walked through the forest, he agreed with a couple of Jedi masters that should the Sith try anything, that they should attack and destroy them without further ado. But as long as they kept to their word, they should act as one expects it from the Jedi – to keep their promises with all honour this act deserved.

Master Quallath came out on a large clearing and paused there, waiting for all the Jedi to join him. He fixed his glance on the other side of the clearing, where the Sith should appear. There was a large oak growing on forest edge and when the four black figures appeared, they remained standing under the tree. Master Quallath waited, but they did not move. Instead they formed a line as before and stared at the Jedi, who stood in a tight-knit group, bating their breaths. Master Quallath opened his mouth to ask why they were not coming, but then it dawned on him that they were standing in the shade. He cast one glance at the sun of Cyrron, smirked and waved to the Jedi to follow him.

He approached the four Sith in a firm, confident pace, keeping his senses sharp, inwardly laughing at their inability to stand in the sun.

"It is very generous of you to humour me," the Sith said who spoke to him the first time.

Now master Quallath could see him better. He could see a pair of dark eyes which watched him under the hood and a pale chin which corroborated his suspicious about the Sith avoiding direct sunlight.

"Shall we sit, then?" the Sith said, hitching away his black cloak and planting himself upon the ground without further ado.

As soon as he sat down, the other three copied him. In that moment it became clear to master Quallath who they were – Dark side students. And the Sith who spoke to him was clearly their leader. The hierarchy was pretty obvious.

Master Quallath lowered himself on the ground with dignity and the rest of the Jedi Order sat down behind him as well, staring at the Sith. Of course, most of them would had liked nothing better but to remain standing, so that they could react more quickly if the Sith tried anything. But it would had been terribly rude. Master Quallath had been very polite with the Sith and seemed to want to show to the Sith the traditional generosity of the Jedi. They would respect his wishes.

"I would have met with you sooner, master Quallath," the Sith said placidly. "But I wanted to speak to you, you see. I knew you would not give me the chance to do so, had I not approached you in this manner."

"Why would you want to speak to me, Sith?" master Quallath asked with a smirk.

"Perhaps it has been an omission on my part," the Sith said after a pause, during which he stared at him, as though trying to decide on something. "You do not know my name, so you keep calling me 'Sith'. You have given me yours; and in turn you may call me Dark Lord."

The Jedi exchanged glances. So it was as they feared. Only the Dark Lord of the Sith was not a female, but a male. Who was it then, that they saw in the Jedi Temple? One of his students? Or could he change genders? Many Jedi shuddered as they heard the words and as they realised they were sitting a few feet away from the next Dark Lord of the Sith, but master Quallath chuckled.

"Very well," master Quallath said. "Dark Lord. Why did you want to speak to me?"

"I have watched you from the shadows," the Dark Lord said, nodding. "It is only natural that I wished to meet you, I daresay. I am only very disappointed to hear that all you wanted to do with me was to kill me, that you did not wish to speak to me. Are you not curious, master Quallath? You have a Sith sitting right before you and all you can think about is how to kill him? Is that the Jedi way?"

"I have nothing to say to you," master Quallath remarked.

He had a distinct impression that the Sith was flattering him so that he would prepare the ground for his snide little trick, when the time comes. However, for some reason, he seemed to be genuinely curious about master Quallath. He is a Sith, he thought to himself the following moment; he lies as easily as he kills. But he touched a nerve – killing was not the Jedi way.

"No?" the Dark Lord echoed, unable to hide regret in his voice. "I am very disappointed. But you also flatter me with your caution – it means you are afraid of us so much that you would rather kill all of us before we can threaten you than speak to us. It is not the Jedi way – but it does show your insecurity and fear."

This stung Quallath right where it should. And though he was vaguely aware of the fact he would be acting childishly if he chose to react to this remark, he still did. His eyes flashed and for a moment he stared at the Sith, thinking about all of the poisonous answers he might give him, until it became clear to him that it was quite unnecessary. The Sith Lord was trying to provoke him – and he clearly succeeded at it.

"There is one question I should like to ask you, Dark Lord, now that I have a chance to do so," he said, trying not to show his anger.

"I am all ears," the Dark Lord said seriously.

"How come you have three apprentices?" he asked.

The Dark Lord seemed to be very impressed with this question and cast a quick glance at the three silent figures which sat right behind him with their gloved hands in their laps. His apprentices, the Jedi thought! Apprentices, as in plural? They assumed that only one of them, the female they saw in the Jedi Temple, was his apprentice, and that the rest was just tagging along. How did master Quallath guess the truth?

"You are right, it is not a custom," the Dark Lord said conversationally. "But I have been through some very rough times, you see. Or the Sith have, rather. I have accepted every student who was worthy of learning about the ways of the Dark side and who could become a powerful Sith. I did not have the convenience of choosing only one student, like the Jedi do, though it is a Sith custom to have only one apprentice, you are right about that. I have been very busy all these years. We might have met sooner than this, but as it were, I was very busy teaching."

"I see," master Quallath said, smiling at him.

Now he was beginning to enjoy this. He felt confident as he swept with the Force over his surroundings for the umpteenth time. They were alone. There was no sign of an army or anything of the sort. And the hundreds of Jedi sitting behind him, ready to jump at his command, filled him with even more confidence. They would end this war, here and now; and master Quallath felt, for the first time in months, that everything was going his way.

"Well, there are a few more questions I should like to ask, now that I think about it. It is something that has been puzzling me for a very long time, Dark Lord," he went on.

"I shall try to answer them, master Quallath," the Dark Lord said.

"Why does the Force not perceive you? You are there, yes, but to the eyes of the Force you feel like an inanimate object," master Quallath asked.

The Dark Lord seemed to be thinking about his question.

"I admit I do know much about the light side of the Force and how it functions," he said at last.

"But you can perceive me, for instance? Through the Dark side?" master Quallath asked.

"Of course," the Dark Lord replied at once. "However, I do not perceive you as I perceive other human beings. I believe that is because you constantly use the light side of the Force. I do not know it and I cannot, for instance, feel what you are feeling. Does that answer your question?"

"The Sith can perceive other people's emotions through the Dark side?" master Quallath asked. The Dark Lord shrugged, as though it was understandable. "Can you also perceive other people's thoughts through the Dark side?"

"It depends," the Dark Lord said. "But the answer is yes. Can something like that be accomplished with the other side of the Force?"

Master Quallath stared at him. He really had no idea how the light side of the Force functioned, did he?

"It also depends, but yes," he said, trying very hard not to grin. "Do you meditate?"

"Of course," the Dark Lord said. "You seem to know a lot about Sith customs, master Quallath."

"I just observed how you and your apprentices sit," master Quallath shrewdly pointed out. "It all appoints to regular practice of sitting on the floor and meditating."

"We were not able to sense you before you showed up on the cliff," master Quallath continued.

Now that he thought about it, yes, he had many questions. He could already see a scripture about the customs of the Sith with his name on it. It would make him famous and he would be the first Jedi who ever accomplished that. As soon as this war ends, he would start writing it.

"How can you make yourself invisible to the Force?"

"Invisible?" the Dark Lord echoed, clearly surprised. "We have been with the Dark side, to be able to sense you when you come. We have been perfectly visible all right. I could see my apprentices and they could see me."

"Curious," master Quallath said. "And yet you sent one of your apprentices to the Jedi Temple to eavesdrop on us and she could make herself invisible."

"No one can make himself invisible, master Quallath," the Dark Lord said. "But you certainly flatter us. My apprentice has merely been with the Dark side. Since you do not know it, you probably cannot feel her with the Force."

"I know what I saw," master Quallath persisted. "one moment she was not there and the other moment she was there. She had been invisible."

"Well, have you been using your Force senses?" the Dark Lord asked.

Master Quallath opened his mouth, but then he checked. He had no idea. He could not remember.

"Well, there you have it," the Dark Lord said, obviously interpreting his silence as a positive answer. "My apprentice has been with the Dark side. And since you do not know it, you could not sense her. Alas, I do not know a lot about the way the light side of the Force functions, so I cannot tell you why."

"And I thought I had no experience with the Dark side and was ignorant of it," master Quallath said. "You seem to be far more ignorant of the light side yourself."

"We live our lives of service the way we do, master Quallath," said the Dark Lord quietly. "We have our missions, our goals in life. Yours is to keep the Jedi Order flourishing and to teach your students all that you know, to pass on the knowledge. My goal has not been very much different. However, you had the advantage of being out in the open. I had to live in hiding and to teach in hiding. My apprentices have not led lives of ease, I can assure you."

"I can well believe that," master Quallath said, nodding in their direction.

They still sat in silence with their heads bowed and it occurred to master Quallath that they were probably dead scared of their master. Who knows what he did to them. But personally, here and now, master Quallath was not afraid of the Dark Lord at all. His skin was so pale it resembled that of a dead person and the contrast with the black robes was a little eerie, but as far as he could see, the Dark Lord looked human. Then again, there was no telling how he really looked like. All he could see was a pair of dark eyes and a very pale, smooth chin.

"But they have chosen the Dark path – it is their curse and their cross to bear," master Quallath said, glancing over the apprentices of the Dark Lord.

"They did not have any choice, of course," the Dark Lord said matter-of-factly. "They have been chosen to be my apprentices. They had to learn."

"You mean, you kidnapped them?" master Quallath asked, startled.

"In a manner of speaking," the Dark Lord said with a crooked smile that made master Quallath shiver.

He just smiled, he thought. But the way he smiled! It was definitely not an expression of happiness.

"The Dark side has chosen them to be my students, by pointing out these talented individuals to me. And I have merely done my duty," the Dark Lord added.

"So how old are they?" master Quallath asked.

"Between twenty and thirty Horukaan years of age, it depends," the Dark Lord said, quickly glancing over them. "They are very young, as the Jedi masters would say."

"How do you know what the Jedi masters would say, Dark Lord?" master Quallath asked quickly, narrowing his eyes.

"There are many of you, master Quallath," the Dark Lord said, looking straight at him. "Surely you must realise that I have spoken to one or two Jedi at some point."

"You have?" master Quallath asked quietly.

The Dark Lord chuckled; and again master Quallath felt a shiver running down his spine. How was he doing it?

"I do not usually walk around with my Sith robes on, I am sure you realise that," the Dark Lord said. "That is your privilege, master Quallath, and that of the Jedi in general. You are allowed to behave and look as who you are the whole time, all your lives. We, alas, cannot do that. I cannot wear the robes which have been a tradition among the Sith since the beginning of time. But I adapt. I find other means."

"I cannot see you ever wearing a disguise and getting away with it," master Quallath said with a smirk. "Anyone who looks twice at you will know at once that you are a Sith."

He wanted to add a few more adjectives, but he desisted from it. He did not believe that insults would be a good way to approach matters, for even now that he had the Sith cornered, he knew very well that they had a trick up their sleeves. They were calculated and they planned in advance. This war clearly proved it. Force knows how long they sat in the shadows, planning it. And they would most certainly not come here to their own funeral without a plan. Master Quallath had to be very cautious.

"But master Quallath," the Dark Lord said, sounding very amused. "One of my apprentices has spent several days in the Jedi Temple and you have not recognised her for who she was."

Master Quallath's expression darkened. Several days? What had she been doing all that time? And yes, come to think of it, how come no one recognised her?

"Which one was it?" he asked rather aggressively, glancing over the silent Sith apprentices.

"It does not matter," the Dark Lord said with a chuckle. "The point is, she was wearing a disguise, a Jedi robe, and she fooled you all right. Would it be so hard to believe that your Jedi might have been speaking to me at some point in their lives and not knowing who I was?"

"Now that you put it that way, yes, I can see your point," master Quallath muttered. "However, we do not need to wear disguises and to skulk about, like you do. We are sincere in our intentions and we are out there where everyone can see us."

"Only because of the circumstances," the Dark Lord said seriously. "We had to adapt to this way of life, because we could not just go out in the open. No one would ever think of killing a Jedi; you are well respected among the people and they regard you as their protectors. Now, had it been the other way round, I daresay I would be walking around wearing my own Sith robes and I would be free to be who I am. We did not have such an advantage; and life has not been easy for us."

"I am sorry I cannot feel any sympathy," master Quallath said coldly.

"I understand," the Dark Lord said with a nod. "We are sworn enemies; have been, since the beginning of time. But do you not think it is selfish not to allow something that is different than you are to exist? Simply because we serve the other side of the Force, we have to be eradicated? Do you not believe that is cruelty?"

"Cruelty!" master Quallath echoed, outraged. "What you did to the seven... no, twelve, Jedi is cruelty!"

"We killed in self-defence," the Dark Lord said flatly. "We have never been the first to attack. They have found us and threatened us. And we have merely defended ourselves. Surely anyone can understand the urge for self-preservation."

"So," master Quallath said, whose eyes were twinkling with fury, now that he got the answer out of the Dark Lord with his own little snide trick. "I caught you red-handed, then. You have not only killed the nine who have been sent out to look for you, but also the three unfortunate people who disappeared some years ago! Have you?"

"We have been on our pilgrimage to the sacred Land of Gnath," the Dark Lord said, unperturbed by master Quallath's anger. "They have invaded it; appeared by the sacred stones of the Sith, where we have been paying our respects to our dead. Surely one can understand that when a rampaging person appears at one of your cemeteries, with a sword in hand, ready to kill you, disturbing the peace of your predecessors, one has to defend oneself and protect the sacred grounds."

"Gnath is your sacred land?" master Quallath echoed.

Now he began to understand some things. The Sith probably originated from that wretched place; and he would have the 'sacred stones' destroyed as soon as he got the chance, he decided.

"Gnath is where our roots are," the Dark Lord said calmly. "It is where the body of the Dark Lord of the Second Age is buried and it is where he spent the last years of his life. Would you not feel obligated to pay your honours to it, if you were in my shoes?"

"Not to a mass murderer, no," master Quallath said with a snort.

"How about... to your own teacher, to your own master, then?" the Dark Lord asked quietly. "Do you not pay your honours to your master's tomb?"

"Certainly," master Quallath answered with dignity. "He was a great man. The wisest Jedi I have ever known."

Then he understood what the Sith was aiming at and glared at him with his eyes wide.

"It cannot be!" he gasped. "He lived hundreds of years ago!"

"But the spirit of those who have unfinished work to do on the world lingers here, master Quallath," the Dark Lord said solemnly. "Have you not had such occurrences among you?"

"We have," master Quallath said. "So you are saying that he taught you?"

"He was my teacher, yes," the Dark Lord said flatly. "You see, the Great War left him without an apprentice. A pair of Jedi killed his first apprentice, whom he had while he was still in his body on this world, and he could not find another worthy of teaching. Thus the Jedi who killed his apprentice denied him the opportunity of passing on his knowledge. After the defeat of the Dark armies, he came to Gnath and there eventually left his body, but his spirit remained behind, waiting for hundreds for years, waiting for his chance to fulfil his destiny and his duty to the Dark side. And he found me. I have accidentally wandered into Gnath, drawn by the mystery and danger of the place, and he appeared to me."

"That elucidates a lot," master Quallath said thoughtfully.

"Do you see now, master Quallath," the Sith Lord said quietly, "how hard it is to bear this name, this title? Do you realise, what sort of a fate it is, to be a Sith?"

"If you are think you are going to get me to feel sympathy for you, then you are barking up the wrong tree," master Quallath said angrily.

"I merely want you to understand," the Dark Lord said, unabashed. "I want you to know, what it is like, what it has been like. To understand it; and to acknowledge it."

"If that means so much to you," master Quallath said seriously. "Yes, I confess that after everything you told me, that it must have been a horrible life. But above all because you cannot feel or use the light side."

"Thank you, master Quallath, that was very decent of you," the Dark Lord said, nodding. He sounded a little melancholic. "Now may I make a suggestion?"

"You speak and I shall see what I make of it," master Quallath said.

The Dark Lord was not exactly what he thought he would be and he indeed felt sorry for him. He was not spitting insults, baring his yellow teeth, or waving with his forked tail. Instead he was speaking to him and trying to get him see what kind of a life had he been leading, what it meant to be a Sith and that a person really did not choose such a life. The Dark side chooses the person, he realised; and he or she has to serve it, like it or not. Now he understood much more and it brought him comfort to know that there was still good on this world, that the Sith did not choose to serve the Dark side. Just as the Dark Lord had been forced by the Dark side to choose his apprentices and to kidnap them, to teach them about the ways of the Dark side, so he had been ensnared by the Dark Lord of the Second Age and forced to be his apprentice. To the question of how this was accomplished, master Quallath did not really want to get an answer. It must be horrible, he thought.

"There has once been a legend," spoke the Dark Lord, "of Aalya and Morchia, fighting on the top of the world. Are you familiar with this legend?"

"It is an ancient Albinian tale from the Book of Prophecies," master Quallath said, staring at him in surprise. "But I cannot imagine how you could know about it."

"I once used to be a child too, master Quallath," the Dark Lord said with a fleeting smile. "The Dark side has not erased all of my memories, you know. I only remember bits of it – but perhaps you could refill the gaps?"

"I cannot see why not," master Quallath said thoughtfully. "Aalya was the goddess of fertility, a maiden born out of the first spring which appeared on the world, according to the legend," he started. "Narywath breathed life into her and made her the protector of nature, of life in general. She wandered the world, making certain that all of the plants had enough water to grow and that all animals had enough food to eat. The story goes that she sang at night, lulling the world to sleep, playing a lute."

The Dark Lord smiled a little, pushing a hand in his cloak, at what master Quallath's hand slid down to the hilt of his sword. The Dark Lord looked at him with his eyebrows raised and slowly pulled out a pipe.

"Surely you would not mind if I smoked?" he asked. "It is tobacco, I can assure you. Look with the Force, if you distrust my words."

So it was and master Quallath relaxed. The Dark Lord filled his pipe and offered him a handful of tobacco. Master Quallath blinked, unable to believe his eyes. A Sith was offering him tobacco!

"You do not smoke?" he asked, still holding a handful of tobacco in his gloved hand.

Quallath would had normally declined, for several reasons. First, this was a Sith who was offering him tobacco; second, this was definitely not the right time to smoke. But something in this whole story, in their conversation and the Dark Lord's manners told him that this would be an honourable gesture. He would be showing his selflessness and his greatness if he agreed to smoke with him. Thus he pulled out his short clay pipe and filled it. The Dark Lord sighed with understanding, pocketing his tobacco. They ignited their pipes using the Force and began to smoke. Behind his back the Jedi could barely believe their eyes.

"Morchia was the god of thunder, of tempest and of strong wind," master Quallath continued. "It so happened that one day, in his playfulness, he destroyed all of Aalya's crops, tore out the trees she planted with greatest care by the roots and made the rivers flood the land. Aalya was furious with him and she searched for him and engaged a fight with him. But she could not catch Morchia. Being the god of wind and thunder, he kept evading her, who was born to dwell on land and therefore could not chase after him across the sky. Thus she waited for him until he came down to do mischief, and then cornered him. With time he grew fond of wreaking havoc and making her angry and she forgot about her mission, about breathing life into the earth and taking care of the plants and animals. In their wish to get even for what the other one has done, they have forgotten all about their tasks and chased after each other all across the world, wreaking havoc and leaving wasteland after them. Eventually, the gods became angry with them, brought them both to the peak of the highest mountain and there left them to fight. 'There,' they said. 'Here you cannot harm anyone. Now fight and let this argument end once and for all.' They fought upon what was called 'the top of the world' for three days and three nights; and in the end, when the gods came up to see who won, they found them both dead. Aalya was killed with a bolt of lightning; and Morchia was killed by a branch of ivy which Aalya conjured to strangle him. In the end, the both of them lost."

"Or the both of them won," the Dark Lord said quietly, inclining his head and breathing a large cloud of smoke toward master Quallath. "In the end, either both of them prevailed or no one did."

"Why did you want to hear this story, Dark Lord?" master Quallath asked.

"Because I remembered bits of it," the Dark Lord said. "And because I have seen great similarities between the Jedi and the Sith in it. We have been fighting each other since the world has been created, for thousands of years. But in the eyes of the gods it might have been three days and three nights."

"However, in this case, Aalya shall prevail," master Quallath said with a confident smile.

"Well, here is my proposition," the Dark Lord said after a pause, as though he did not hear what master Quallath last said. "We have never really gotten the chance to fight openly and see whose skill, whose power is greater. There has never been such an occasion. It is my proposition to do so now."

Master Quallath sat staring at him for a few moments before he realised what he was actually saying. Then he burst into laughter.

"It is quite unnecessary!" he cried. "We have you within our grasp; and you shall be dead long before the night falls."

"Is this how you wage war, how you fight your opponents?" the Dark Lord asked.

There was a distinct note of threat in his voice which did not escape master Quallath. Until now he spoke calmly and in an even voice, but now his eyes flashed under the hood and his voice changed.

"You fight with number? Is that an honourable fight? Is it _just_?"

"This is no time to ponder on what is just and what is not," master Quallath yelled. "You have killed twelve of our people, twelve good Jedi, and we have every right to avenge them, aside with the fact that you started your little war in which innocent people were killed! This war must end!"

"My troops shall remain where they are, awaiting my return," the Dark Lord said, waving a hand. "But if I do not return, they will carry out my last orders. They will attack the Jedi Temple and kill all of the children in it. And after they have done that, they will hunt down all of the Jedi and kill them too. Such were my orders."

Master Quallath gaped at him. How did he know about the Padawans? Had he lied when he spoke about the Dark side and what it could do?

"Not lied, no," the Dark Lord answered his thoughts for the first time with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I talked about the Sith in general. I am the Dark Lord, master Quallath. I have powers other Sith can only dream about. But you have not asked about my own powers."

He twisted the truth in such a way it made master Quallath feel sick.

"If you are so certain that your army will execute your orders even after you are dead, then why are you doing this? Why have you come here alone, unprotected and without an army? Do you want to die?" master Quallath asked in a hollow voice.

"I came here with my apprentices because I wanted to engage in an open fight with you," the Dark Lord said in a serious voice. "I wanted the fight to be just. Ordering my army to slaughter all of you is a backup plan in case you decline to fight with us here and now. Because if you decline to duel with us, you would be expressing your fear of failure and would be denying your purpose and your ideals. And thus I would be left with no alternative, dead or alive, but to slaughter all of you. But for me, for the Darkness, that would be no victory at all. It would be just like the ending of the legend about Aalya and Morchia – both dead, and both damned."

"What is it that you are proposing, exactly?" master Quallath asked after a pause.

"Duels," the Dark Lord said. "One Sith, one Jedi. A clean fight. Let the more powerful prevail. Show the world who is more powerful and who should rule the world. Aalya – or Morchia."

"And how is it that I can know you will hold to your word?" master Quallath asked.

The dark eyes bored into him.

"Have I lied to you?" the Dark Lord asked quietly. "I want this to end as much as you do."

"You trained your apprentices to kill ever since they could walk," master Quallath remarked. "It would not a fair fight."

"You are so full of prejudice, master Quallath," said the Dark Lord with dignity. "Do you not believe in the power of the light side of the Force? Do you have no trust in it at all?"

Feeling cornered like a mouse, master Quallath stared at him, thinking about it. Yes, he doubted the Force. There were times he really doubted his purpose and the Force. And this was the time to show that he did not doubt it any more.

"You have a choice now," the Dark Lord said after a pause, giving master Quallath enough time to think about it. "You can kill us, all four of us, right here and right now – and we shall not move a muscle. We shall not defend ourselves unless the battle is honourable and set according to some rules. Then my allies – many of them – will hear of my death and you shall have a rampaging war of a far greater proportion you ever imagined on your hands. Oh, I am certain that you would be able to establish peace in the end, to fight back. But not before a lot of blood would be spilled; and there would be very few left to enjoy the peace you have fought out for the world and signed it with blood of the innocent. If I do not return, my allies would know you have killed me and my apprentices. And the people will always remember the Jedi as the ones who slaughtered defenceless people and declined to engage in honourable duels because they were too afraid and because they did not believe in their principles and ideals. You will be labelled as traitors and the name of the Jedi will be besmirched and destroyed. And you, master Quallath, will forever have blood of the innocent on your hands."

"Or you can gamble with fate," the Dark Lord continued. "Here is what I promise to you if you win.

I shall order my allies to withdraw and I, along with my apprentices, shall withdraw to the Land of Gnath and never trouble you again. In which case I shall only ask you to give us peace in our domain and agree not to prosecute us. But then you would know where we are and could easily find us and destroy us, should our behaviour be labelled as inappropriate by you."

"And if you win?" master Quallath asked in a hoarse voice.

Now he realised the seriousness of the matter and he knew that every single word of it was true. This was the trick he had up his sleeve; and it was a nasty trick indeed. It did not involve murder from the shadows by a fifth person, nor did it involve some secret, horrible Dark side power they had. This was an appeal to his honour and his ideals, something the Jedi Order nourished and encouraged in all of the Jedi throughout centuries. Master Quallath did not care he would have blood on his hands – but to have the honour of the Order and its noble purpose destroyed in such a way, that was far worse than death and he would die a hundred times if he could prevent that from happening. He acknowledged his own defeat and started thinking about the conditions of the battle which was going to take place. The Dark Lord caught him on his own ground and defeated him with his own sword.

"If I win," the Dark Lord said, "you will withdraw to your Jedi Temple and there continue to live in solitude, not interfering with my plans for the world. You shall be given freedom to live in your own domain, as long as you do not meddle in."

"You would not kill all of us?" master Quallath asked.

"You insult me," the Dark Lord spat with gall. "Have I not spoken of honour and justice? What justice would it be for me to defeat you in a clean duel between the two sides of the Force, between two fates, and then to go on a killing spree? I shall not have the blood of the innocent on my hands."

"How will I know you will keep to your word?" master Quallath asked.

The Dark Lord reached out within his robes and pulled out a pendant, which he turned so that master Quallath could see it. He furrowed his brow.

"You wear something similar, I am certain," the Dark Lord said. "Whether it is a ring or a pendant, it does not matter. It is my insignia, the symbol of my title and of my power. This is the symbol which represents the Dark side."

He pointed at the engraved symbol and then firmly grasped the pendant.

"I, the incarnate Dark Lord of the Sith, the voice of Darkness on this world and the carrier of the Black Flame, hereby solemnly swear on my title and on the mighty Dark side that I will honour my word," he said in a deep voice.

Master Quallath stared as the symbol flashed red. The Dark Lord released the pendant and upturned his palm. Master Quallath could see the exact same symbol burned in his skin.

He swallowed. He knew about it. He heard and read about it, but he had never tried something like that. To swear on the Force was the ultimate oath one could give. The Jedi swore on the light side of the Force, of course, and though the young Jedi did not think it really mattered, it did. Master Quallath knew it did. The oaths they gave to the Force lived in it and it accepted them as warriors of the Light. He gave an oath when he accepted his position of the Head of the Order in front of the whole Jedi Order and he knew it was not to be taken lightly. He had a duty to perform, duty to the Force, and those were not just empty words.

With a deep sigh he reached inside his robes and pulled out a large pendant bearing the symbol of the light side. The Jedi exchanged glances. Some of them had no idea he was wearing it; and some could not understand how the Dark Lord knew this. But master Quallath did not even ask the Dark Lord how come he knew this. He just accepted it as something that was understandable.

He looked into the eyes of the Dark Lord who sat and stared at him without blinking as his fingers grasped the pendant.

"I, master Quallath, the Head of the Jedi Order and the carrier of the sacred Light, swear on the Holy Force and all that is sacred to me that I will honour my word," he said.

Several Jedi gasped, but no one dared to do or say anything. It so seemed that master Quallath knew what he was doing; but the whole thing seemed to be getting out of hand. Most Jedi had no idea what was going on, only that their Head of Order just gave an oath and swore on the Force. When he next lifted his hand, the symbol representing the light side was etched in his skin.

"Now we shall speak about the conditions," master Quallath said, pushing the pendant back underneath his Jedi tunic.

"Very well," the Dark Lord said.

"I must draw your attention to one point," master Quallath went on. "You have trained your apprentices in combat skills and that is obviously something we, the Jedi, are inferior in. Judging according to what I have seen, they have been trained in combat skills since they could walk. Our teachings are different and we do not put such an emphasis on duelling and combat skills in general. Therefore a duel between one of your apprentices and one of the Jedi would not be fair."

A fleeting smile passed over the face of the Dark Lord. The Jedi knew how it sounded – as though master Quallath had just acknowledged that the Sith apprentices were superior to them and that he was afraid. However, they could not hold it against master Quallath for trying to create a leverage for their side.

"I cannot see how it would be unfair," the Dark Lord stated the obvious. "Clearly you are going to choose a Jedi master to fight against one of my apprentices, who are still apprentices. Therefore I would say that such a duel would be unfair to the Sith, but I will let it pass because I know what my apprentices can do. They will do their best – or die trying."

"I am ready to allow the duels if you consent to having two Jedi fighting against one Sith," master Quallath said.

The Dark Lord stared at him long and without blinking. Then he looked back toward his apprentices who were staring at him with deadly serious looks on their faces. For a moment, watching this silent communication take place, master Quallath felt outright dirty for proposing such a sly thing. But this is war, he reminded himself. He was just hoping that the Dark Lord would accept. The Sith, he had a distinct impression, were almost insanely brave and just might accept such a condition because they were too confident in their abilities.

"Agreed," the Dark Lord said in the end. "Two against one. But this is my condition atop of yours – you will choose two Jedi and then I will choose the apprentice who will be fighting against them. They all have different capabilities and that way I would be able to choose the one who would be most fitting for the opponents you have chosen."

"Agreed," master Quallath said quickly, before the Sith Lord could change his mind.

"Should injury or death happen along the way, during the encounter," continued the Dark Lord, "it shall be allowed. But the victorious is not allowed to kill his opponent, Sith or Jedi. Agreed?"

"Agreed, Dark Lord," master Quallath said once again, a little surprised but nevertheless very happy with this last condition. It meant that there was a possibility no one would have to die, whatever happened.

The Dark Lord put away his pipe, took off his glove, and extended his hand to him. Master Quallath stared at it. It was the hand of a young man, he concluded, which nevertheless looked too perfect.

The Sith Lord wore many rings on his fingers, some of which were rather massive and undeniably strange. Master Quallath shook his head and stopped staring at the proffered hand, reached out and shook it.

"Is your body temperature so low because of the Dark side?" master Quallath asked as the Dark Lord withdrew his hand. He was cold as death.

"You have done your background study well, I see," the Dark Lord said with a smirk.

He got to his feet and so did master Quallath. The Dark Lord looked up to the sky and nodded. Master Quallath followed his glance, not understanding what he was looking at.

"I was about to ask you to choose a spot where there is plenty of shade for us, for the sunlight not to trouble us," he said calmly. "But it is unnecessary. It shall be cloudy."

"How do you know?" master Quallath asked.

He knew, of course, because he could feel the movement of the clouds through the Force. But he wanted to know whether this was how the Dark Lord knew.

"The Dark side is stirring those clouds, to help us in our quest," the Dark Lord said simply. "It knows."

Thinking about he last said, master Quallath turned, meaning to summon a council. He could not help himself not to think that the Dark Lord put his trust in the Dark side just as he did in the light side of the Force.

"We shall eat," the Dark Lord yelled after him. "You are quite welcome to see what we are doing through the Force and I shall take the liberty of doing so myself."

Master Quallath nodded at him, leading the Jedi to the other side of the clearing.

He sat down and began to explain the situation to the speechless Jedi, all the while they were aware of the distant clank of pots and the smell of fire. The four Sith sat down under the tree and began to cook a meal. They spoke a little to each other; but as far as master Quallath's Force ears could hear, it was not a language he recognised.

"I cannot order you to get up and go engage in a duel with those creatures," he said seriously. "And I cannot suggest who should go, either. I do not know enough about their skill or about their combat training. But we have seen one Sith in battle, up to now – his apprentice, one of his apprentices, that is. And if we are to judge by what we have seen, then I think you all know that only those who are exceedingly skilful with the sword should go."

He buried his face in his hands and sighed.

"This must be a nightmare," he whispered. "I cannot tell you to go there and fight. But at least no one will be killed at the end of the duel. I am pretty certain that the Sith Lord will keep to his word concerning this particular condition, since he has only three apprentices and does not want to lose them. He might not care about them as individuals, as I care about all of you. But he can care about the load of work he did over the years. He spent a lot of time and energy teaching them and I am certain he does not want to see the fruits of his work ruined."

"Master Quallath," master Gar-Gan spoke slowly, coming to sit beside him. "We want you to know that we do not blame you for this. It is no one's fault. No one blames you for anything. All you did was to make the best out of everything. Therefore do not trouble yourself with this. You do not stand alone – we all stand with you. We shall eat and when we are done, there will be six Jedi standing before you, ready to fight the Sith."

"Seven, Gar-Gan," master Quallath said sadly.

The Droddian half-blood looked at him in surprise.

"One has to pair up with me and fight the Sith Lord," master Quallath said. "He did not say it, but he did not need to. The last battle will be us against him."


	52. Chapter 51 - Part Four

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I write because I can't help myself. :)

This is the first part of the last chapter, which I split in two parts.

Cassie

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CAP. LI – The last stand of the Light, Part One

While the Jedi discussed matters, the four Sith sat under the tree and ate. They talked to each other quietly and seemed perfectly calm. There was not one hint of nervousness, not one hint of anger and no raised voices could be heard. They were simply having a quiet meal, as master Quallath ascertained himself by reaching out with the Force for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"They are drinking coffee," he said quietly, taking a sip from the cup master Feth placed before him. He shook his head.

"I have seen strange things in my life – but I have never seen anything like the Sith. I have not seen or felt one hint of anger from either of them throughout the whole of our encounter. It is almost as though they are completely drained of all emotions, completely devoid of any feelings at all."

"It is how the Dark side affects them," master Gar-Gan said gravely.

He sat right beside master Quallath and was constantly glancing over the Jedi who sat everywhere and ate. He took it on himself to choose the ones who would go to battle, since he felt someone had to do it, if master Quallath did not want to. He understood why. Master Quallath did not want to order people to go to battle which might as well cost them their lives. But master Gar-Gan knew someone had to go and he decided he would be the one who would make suggestions. But, as it were, he did not need to say a thing. By the time the green coffee was distributed, master Feth raised a hand.

"I volunteer," he said.

It was naturally quite superfluous to say what he was talking about, since it was all the Jedi could think about.

Master Quallath's glance fixed upon him and his expression softened. Master Feth was an excellent swordsman, one of the best in the Order. Pureblood Albinian and athletically built, he was agile and his reflexes were very good. He was one of the few who was so Force sensitive that he could sense even the slightest movement solely with the ears and eyes of the Force. Master Quallath would had chosen him himself, if he was not deliberately keeping quiet about it, as he did not wish to impose anything upon anyone. He kept to his principles all his life and gave the Jedi their freedom to do what they liked. They were all free men and women and he would be damned if he betrayed his principles now, in the darkest of times.

"I will go," said a female voice from somewhere behind master Feth.

Master Quallath sighed and nodded. It was master Laye-Li, an Albinian pureblood, who nevertheless had a Caelian great-great grandfather, what one could clearly see in her height and her fair hair. She threw master Gar-Gan a determined look and he nodded.

"Count me in as well," said the voice of a short Malaskian half-blood. "I am not as fantastic swordsman as all of you are," he said, looking around himself, "but I am good at fist-fighting and wrestling. Master Quallath said that the Sith apprentice could kick and punch – well, then, I am your man."

"Excellent," master Gar-Gan said, looking around himself. "Who else?"

In twenty minutes, more Jedi volunteered, and the seven had been chosen. Master Quallath sat down on away from the Jedi, looking thoughtful and watching the four Sith who were now smoking and casting occasional glances at the Jedi, waiting for them to make the first move. The Dark Lord was speaking to them in an even, emotionless voice and the three listened. Master Quallath could not understand it. He spent all his life thinking that the Sith were governed by hate and anger and yet there they were, getting ready for the grand battle and they did not seem to be the least nervous. He could not feel any hint of hate or anger and it drove him crazy. The Sith were not what he expected them to be. For starters, he only expected one Sith and not four.

Master Gar-Gan approached him and sat down beside him.

"We are all set, master Quallath," he said. "We have seven volunteers."

Master Quallath looked up with what one could call a sad expression on his lined face, and then fixed his glance once again upon the Sith.

"They are done with their eating?" master Gar-Gan asked, following his glance.

"In all of the long years of my life," master Quallath whispered, "I have not seen anything like it. We do not know anything about what they can do and yet we are going to play this game with them. It is a check-mate situation, Gar-Gan. And it makes me sick even thinking about it."

Master Gar-Gan sighed. Thanks to his Droddian blood, he was a man of action. He did not like to sit around and ponder. He was the first to get up and do something. Well, the seven Jedi had been chosen. So why sit around and wait and speculate about what the Sith could and could not do if they could just go out there and see for themselves?

"Do you want to know who is on the list?" master Gar-Gan asked.

Master Quallath threw him a strange look and master Gar-Gan sighed, quickly guessing what was on his mind.

"We have all given our oaths to the Order, master Quallath," he said a little more softly. "We are grown men and women and we have decided ourselves we wanted to do this. I admit, we have not gotten a chance to actually fight for the honour of the Order and for the well-being of the people, but we shall do so now."

Master Quallath turned and saw that two Jedi were standing and staring at him. Slowly, he got to his feet.

oooooooooooooooo

The Sith, seeing that four Jedi had broken out of their lines, looked round and got to their feet.

"We have chosen the first two Jedi," master Quallath said, pointing his finger at the two silent Jedi standing right behind him.

"Good," the Dark Lord said, nodding. "Let me see them."

The two Jedi stepped forward, looking at the Dark Lord with expressions of indifference on their faces, at what they felt strange, unnatural chill sweeping over them. They jumped.

"Not to be alarmed," the Dark Lord said. "I am merely looking at you with the eyes of the Force. I shall not harm you, though the sensation it offers you might be strange. I do not know how it is going to feel."

So this was how the Dark side felt, the two Jedi thought, watching him from up close. The Dark Lord stared at nothing in particular, but he was obviously concentrating.

"How come we have not sensed this before?" master Quallath asked the question which was on everyone's mind.

The Dark Lord looked vaguely in his direction, skimming thoughtfully with his glance over his apprentices, who were sitting on the ground and staring at him, looking as though he was about to bring a decision.

"Sensed what?" he asked absent-mindedly.

"This chill, this horrible, clammy hand we felt just now," master Quallath spat impatiently.

"Probably because I have not looked as well as I have looked now," the Dark Lord said patiently. "The use of the Force has many different levels, master Quallath; I am sure you know that."

He lowered his glance upon his apprentices and was glancing from one to the other for perhaps one long, agonising minute, with everyone bating their breaths. At long last, he lifted a hand.

"Lady Tarralyanna," he said in Albinian, so that the Jedi could understand him. "You shall be their opponent."

"Yes, my Master," said a female voice promptly and the slender creature whom master Quallath held for a half-Caelian bowed to him.

"Give me your Saragon," the Dark Lord said imperiously.

Without a word or a question she reached inside of her robes and pulled out the strangest weapon the Jedi had ever seen, giving it to the Dark Lord with another bow. He took it and walked over to master Quallath with it in his hand, who was eyeing it in disbelief. Behind his back, the female Sith was now busy with furling her hair atop of her head, with the other two helping her.

"It is the Jedi tradition," the Dark Lord said in a loud, clear voice, brandishing the weapon, "for each Jedi to make a Jalá sword for himself and become skilful in using it. Each Sith, however, has a different weapon, which becomes their personal weapon of choice. They are awarded by the master to the apprentice at the beginning of his training. The master spends some time thinking about the weapon which would be most suitable for the Sith apprentice, taking into consideration his build, his capabilities and his strengths and weaknesses. After this long process the Sith apprentice is given a sketch of the weapon and his task is to make it. Lady Tarralyanna has been awarded the Saragon. Now, you may freely pick it up and examine it, if you fear of any tricks on my part. I have already examined the swords of her two opponents and I approve of them."

"If you do not mind, Dark Lord," master Gar-Gan said before master Quallath could say a word, "I would like to take a look at it. I am curious."

The Dark Lord gave him a quick smile and dropped the Saragon in his hands, who began to study it diligently.

"Why can they not fight with swords as well?" master Quallath asked.

It sounded as though the Sith apprentices made their weapons at a very early age and he could certainly imagine little children wearing black waving about with strange weapons. They probably began using them ever since they could walk.

The Dark Lord lazily looked in his direction.

"Because it would be unfair of me to demand of my students to fight with weapons they have little skill with, just as your Jedi are skilled in using the Jalá swords," he replied patiently, though with a note of coldness in his voice. "Would you approve of me demanding of the Jedi to use axes, for instance? I have already allowed double opponents, master Quallath; do not push the matter too far. Lady Tarralyanna, who is still an apprentice, shall be fighting two master Jedi. Is that not enough for you?"

Master Quallath dropped the issue, because even before he said this, he knew that he would be wrong to try to propose something of the sort. Thus he leaned over master Gar-Gan's shoulder and studied the weapon himself. The weapon consisted out of two spiked spheres, which were connected together by a chain. In the middle, where one would hold such a weapon, was a long piece of something that looked like a bone.

"What is this?" master Quallath asked, pointing at the scrawls alongside of the bone.

"It is my apprentice's name, written in Sith," the Dark Lord replied calmly. "It is a Sith tradition to write one's name on one's weapon. As it is yours."

Master Quallath frowned and looked away. Even the Sith alphabet looked strange.

Master Quallath stood aside and glanced over the female Sith apprentice, aware of the fact that the two Jedi were now talking in whispers and taking their cloaks off. One of them was master Laye-Li. The other was a middle-aged, very respected Jedi master by the name of master Marri-Gon. He had many cousins in Montague, though he himself had been born in Iuthsowen and that perhaps accounted for his lean figure. His brown hair was braided and his short braid was falling down his back. His normally friendly, round face was now frozen in an expression of greatest possible seriousness as he slowly pulled his Jalá sword from the scabbard and threw his girdle on the ground.

The behaviour of the Sith was peculiar. The female apprentice, called Lady Tarralyanna, was quietly talking to the other two, turned with her back to the Jedi. She took her black cloak off and remained standing in a strange black shirt. The Dark Lord seemed to think that she should have enough time to get ready and he calmly ignited a pipe while Lady Tarralyanna was whispering to the two other apprentices. At long last the two of them got to their feet and Lady Tarralyanna embraced one. They patted each other on the back after what she moved on to the second one. The same wordless farewell was repeated. After that she quickly turned and got to her one knee before the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord stared down at her for a few moments and then directed a hissing sentence at her. She nodded and picked up her weapon. Master Quallath had no idea that the Sith even had their own language but they all seemed to be fluent in it. To hear them speak it, however, was very strange. It was a mystery to him how a human tongue could even produce such sounds at the back of the throat.

Lady Tarralyanna took off her shirt, to the Jedi's grand surprise, picked up her Saragon and then began to advance to the middle of the clearing in a long, determined pace. She wore something tied around her breasts and master Quallath gaped at her tattooed back. Her whole back and her arms were covered in various tattoos of snakes and Sith glyphs and it seemed there was not an inch of her skin that had not been tattooed.

The rest of the Jedi fell silent as they saw the Sith walking out to what was going to be the battlefield with her weapon in her right hand, her eyes fixed upon the horizon. The two Jedi cast a glance in master Quallath's direction, who seriously nodded at them and patted them as they walked past him. He tried to look encouraging, but he was certain he failed at it. The two Jedi, however, had more important things to think about.

Lady Tarralyanna paused in the middle of the clearing with the two Jedi following her. As she turned to face them, they stopped and stared at her.

She was not human, they could see that at once. She was so thin that one could see her ribcage. But her eyes! They were blue. Master Quallath's glance paused on her hair, which had been tightened in a bun atop of her head. But even so it was obvious that she had several violet locks. There was a tattoo of a large, green snake on her belly, where a sharp grid of muscles vibrated in the rhythm of her breathing.

"What is she?" master Quallath whispered as his glance paused on her belly, on the spot where every human being of every race in the world had a navel. She, however, had none.

The Dark Lord looked at him and smiled.

"Have you expected the Sith to remain human, master Quallath? None of us is human. The Dark side makes us inhuman," the Dark Lord said matter-of-factly.

Master Quallath stood a little away from him with master Gar-Gan, whereas the two Sith apprentices approached the Dark Lord and remained standing a little behind him. Lady Tarralyanna stomped the ground with her feet as though trying to determine whether it was slippery or not. The two Jedi, her opponents, exchanged glances and assumed combat position. They did not want to attack the Sith until she did the same, since they believed it would be an honourable thing to do, to attack her before she was ready for battle. Once Lady Tarralyanna looked in their direction and assumed combat position as well, they realised that they had never really felt the Dark side and that they could feel it all right. Had the Dark Lord been pulling them by the nose the whole time? What they felt as he supposedly looked at them with the eyes of the Dark side was not really use of the Dark side. THIS was the use of the Dark side.

It spread over the clearing like a dark cloud, bearing thunderstorm; and the destructive flame of Darkness burned in the blue eyes of the Sith as she lifted her weapon up in the air. And so the battle began.

She opened her mouth and hissed a word, with her eyes fixed upon the two Jedi. The two Sith apprentices repeated the hissing word in unison. It seemed to be an exclamation of some sort, master Quallath thought, who quickly tried to reach out for the Dark Lord's thoughts. However, he ran against a wall. It almost seemed as though the Dark Lord was not there at all, as though he did not possess a mind to be read.

Lady Tarralyanna swung with her weapon and spun it around her head for a few times, as though trying out its balance. The following moment she jumped with a loud battle shriek, which echoed the woods, so fast that the Jedi had to react. The charged at her, only to find she had jumped over their heads and landed on the other side, spinning her Saragon around her head, which dangerously fizzed through the air. The two Jedi attacked, one from each side, only to find themselves ducking the spiked spheres which revolved around the Sith so fast they were a blur. The weapon seemed to become alive in the Sith's hands and it flew from her one hand to the other, all the time revolving in the same rhythm.

It took several seconds for master Laye-Li to adapt to the Sith's weapon. She jumped a few times, ducked the spiked sphere and managed to find a gap in the turning of the Saragon which she used to get behind the Sith and swing with her sword at her. The Sith merely shook her head, as though composing herself and grinned at her. Master Laye-Li was certain that she managed to penetrate the flesh, but she could not see any blood. Perhaps she did not have any blood at all? The two women stared at each other, each having her own objective in mind, after what the Sith made a quick movement which made it seem as though she was about to attack her, just as she did at the beginning of the duel.

But this time master Laye-Li was not fooled. She remained standing where she was and merely followed the movement of the Sith through the Force, turning around as she sensed she was about to jump over her head. Master Quallath felt pride swell within him upon the sight of her. He was not sorry she volunteered, for she seemed to understand and was able to adapt to the Sith's combat technique much faster than master Marri-Gon could.

Master Marri-Gon, in turn, followed them closely, waiting for a chance to jump in and strike. Which was basically something they agreed on beforehand. Master Laye-Li would keep the Sith busy while master Marri-Gon would attack her from behind. Completely with the Force, he followed their duel and jumped closer as master Laye-Li threw herself on the ground to avoid getting hit with one of the spiked spheres, ready to run the Sith through from the behind. In one fraction of a second he threw himself at her, using the Force to give himself more speed, but as soon as he did he heard a warning in his head. A foot appeared out of nowhere and hit him straight in the face. He flew in an arc through the air, struggling not to lose consciousness as he hit the ground.

The Sith made a few impressive leaps backwards as master Laye-Li chased wildly after her. In one moment the Sith pulled back and made a quick sweep with the Saragon through the air, while master Laye-Li managed to avoid getting split in half only by bending backwards. She was however struck across her stomach. She remained standing and composed herself, biting her lip as blood quickly soaked her tunic. At the exact same time master Quallath saw master Marri-Gon shakily getting to his feet. He felt as though he had just been hit with a rock on the head. He shook his head and stretched out his hand, grabbing his sword again.

Master Laye-Li and Lady Tarralyanna stood panting for a moment, facing each other, until Lady Tarralyanna let out another eerie battle shriek and charged at her. Master Laye-Li yelled as well, throwing herself at her. But the Sith did not allow her to come close, now spinning the Saragon quicker than ever, her blue eyes dangerously narrowed. Master Marri-Gon saw his chance. He spun his sword and got behind them, on alert from the Sith's feet. As he swung with the sword, the Sith kicked off and jumped over his head, using her momentum to give the Saragon one last spin before she was too high. One of the spiked spheres struck master Marri-Gon straight in the face and he fell on the ground for the second time and remained lying motionless.

Master Laye-Li had seen it before. She knew what the Sith was going to do but she was not going to allow her to do it. She jumped after her, swinging with her sword. She would not have that damn Sith weapon hit her. The Sith pulled aside, but master Laye-Li had other means of knocking the dangerous weapon out of her hand. She kicked the Sith in the stomach and the Saragon fell down with a clunk. With a cackle of triumph, she swung with her sword, only to find that the Sith had disappeared from where she was standing. Lady Tarralyanna crouched so fast and unexpectedly that it took master Laye-Li a fraction of a second to react – only it was too late. She felt a powerful tug and the following moment found herself on the ground, with the Sith's foot on her chest, her own sword in her hand and pointed at her throat. Now there was a very unpleasant look of rage on her face as her hand, which was quite steady, pressed the tip of the blade against the Jedi's throat.

Master Laye-Li lifted her hands, breathing heavily and stared with burning hatred at the Sith, whereas the Jedi bated their breaths.

The Dark Lord shouted a harsh word and the Sith lifted her chin proudly. She put down her foot and made a backward pace, watching as master Laye-Li leaned aside and coughed out a mouthful of blood. Then she did the most extraordinary thing – she reached out with her left hand and held it out to her. Master Laye-Li did not notice it at first, being busy with throwing up blood. But when she wiped off her mouth, she looked up at her and remained staring. The Sith shook her hand a little, as though inviting her to take it and staring expectantly at her.

If master Laye-Li chose to ignore her and tried to get to her feet on her own, she would insult her, she was certain. But why the Sith wanted to help her to get to her feet and not master Marri-Gon? And then it struck her. She was the one who remained fighting until the end. The Sith considered her to be a worthy warrior and was therefore showing her respect for her capabilities. It was a Droddian custom, of course; and master Laye-Li was pretty familiar with Droddian customs.

She would behave like a Jedi, even though she lost. Thus she grabbed the proffered hand and was pulled to her feet. For a moment, the two stood staring at each other. The half-bent, barely standing Jedi, pressing a hand against her bleeding stomach, and the lean Sith whose unnaturally blue eyes wandered over the Jedi.

Lady Tarralyanna nodded at her and turned away, heading back toward the tree where the Dark Lord and the other two Sith apprentices stood. In her passing she pointed her finger at the Saragon, which zoomed into her outstretched hand. She rejoined the Sith without saying a word. There was no cheering, no yelling, no expression of emotions of any sort. Lady Tarralyanna went straight to the Dark Lord and lowered herself on her one knee before him. The Dark Lord nodded at her with a mask-alike expression and she got to her feet, turning to the other Sith and picking up her shirt in passing.

"Your female warrior is very talented," the Dark Lord said, watching master Laye-Li being picked up by a few Jedi who ran to fetch her. It so seemed that master Marri-Gon had merely been knocked out, though he would most certainly have a few scars on his face to remember this duel. "She needs training, of course; but she still has time for that. She is young."

Master Quallath stared at him, left speechless after this very short, but very quick and painful fight which took place before his very eyes.

"Is the rest of your apprentices not human as well?" he asked, barely able to hold his voice steady.

The Dark Lord looked with mild interest at him and shrugged.

"The Sith are not human as a rule," he said unblinkingly. "I thought I told you that, master Quallath. However, Lady Tarralyanna even more so. She is one of my best students, perhaps. I have taught her since she was three and she grew up by my side, learning the ways of the Dark side. She is very talented, as you have seen."

Talented would be an understatement, in master Quallath's opinion. But if she was his best student, then there was still hope left for the Jedi. He decided to have a word in the choice of the next pair of the Jedi and snorted with an air of a man who had just seen too much, turning away.

As he walked back to the Jedi who surrounded master Laye-Li and master Marri-Gon, he heard a loud shout. He glanced over his shoulder. Apparently the two Sith apprentices wanted to hear what the duel was like and Lady Tarralyanna started describing it to them, but the Dark Lord did not approve of it. They fell silent and turned away from her.

Master Gar-Gan, who was at master Quallath's heels, shook his head. He was merciless with them. The way Lady Tarralyanna used her weapon clearly spoke of many, many hours of dreary practice. He could see that the Dark Lord had been busy all right – he probably had them train every day until they dropped down dead and only then allowed them to eat and rest a little. Clear proof of it was the Sith's body itself – she seemed to be able to use every tiny muscle she possessed. They were apparently used to him shouting at them and probably even beating them. The Dark Lord did not smile at Lady Tarralyanna or express his satisfaction with the way she fought in any way. It more seemed as though he expected it and as though it was understandable. Now she was sitting under the tree and drinking water, her blue eyes hidden in the depths of the hood once again. She had not disappointed her master and it seemed to be enough for her.

oooooooooooooooooo

Once the Jedi took care of master Laye-Li's wound and managed to wake master Marri-Gon, master Quallath chose the second pair himself and the three of them walked back across the clearing to the Sith. One battle was lost; but there were three more. A lot could change and once master Quallath and the whole of the Jedi Order saw how the Sith fought, they were certain they were ready for the second fight.

"Ah, yes," the Dark Lord said as he glanced over the second pair.

One of them was master Gar-Gan himself and the second was master Brulli-Yan, who were walking side by side, wearing matching threatening expressions.

"It is your round now, is it?" the Dark Lord asked, giving master Gar-Gan a nod and glancing over him. The half-Droddian nodded sharply, bracing himself for the sweep with the Dark side and ready to memorise exactly how it felt.

"Who is it, that you inherited your Droddian blood from, master Gar-Gan, if I may ask?" the Dark Lord asked conversationally.

"My mother," master Gar-Gan answered through his teeth.

"Ah!" the Dark Lord said. "Very interesting."

He nodded at them and fixed his glance on something in the distance. The Jedi felt a powerful wave of chill spilling over them and they tried not to shudder. The hand of the Dark side seemed to be scanning them from head to toe and the Jedi had no idea what the Dark Lord was looking for. How he could determine what sort of capabilities they had using the Force was completely unclear to them. Master Gar-Gan was certain he felt a threatening whisper in his mind, but he pushed it away. Those were his own fears, playing tricks on him, he told himself firmly. He did not need any distractions. He also felt his Jalá sword move a little in its scabbard and he looked up to see the Dark Lord nodding at him and turning away from him. Master Gar-Gan quickly skimmed over the sword with the Force, to ascertain himself that the Dark Lord had not done something to it. It felt fine. So why was the Dark Lord interested in his sword?

The two Sith apprentices had helped Lady Tarralyanna dress her wound and now she was sitting together with them and watching the Dark Lord inspect the Jedi. As the Dark Lord turned toward them, they all sat up straight and stared expectantly at him. His glance swept over them for only a split second – he seemed to know exactly whom he was going to choose for the next duel.

"Lord Tammutyen," he said loudly. "Your turn."

"Yes, my Master," said a deep voice of a man from underneath one of the hoods in a strange, accented Albinian.

Master Quallath's heart missed a beat. It was the broad-shouldered man whom he held for a Droddian the first time he had seen him. It so seemed that the Dark Lord chose him because of master Gar-Gan.

"Your Ptah," the Dark Lord said, extending a hand.

The Sith readily reached out for a long scabbard and gave it to the Dark Lord with a quick, impatient bow. The other hooded apprentice got to his feet, obviously meaning to help the Sith with his hair, which was just as long as that of Lady Tarralyanna. Was long hair a Sith tradition? If so, it was the most peculiar Sith tradition he had seen up to now, master Quallath thought.

"This," the Dark Lord said, turning to the Jedi and dexterously pulling out a long weapon from the strange scabbard, "is Ptah. It is perhaps the most delicate traditional Sith weapon ever constructed and it demands a fantastic feeling of its balance and length from its user. Lord Tammutyen was awarded the Ptah because he possessed all of these qualities. You are welcome to take a look at it."

He proffered it to master Quallath, who took it in his hands with a look of disbelief on his face. It was very light, he noted; but it must be terribly difficult to handle. It was very long and master Quallath imagined the person wielding it had to have an excellent feeling for its weight. He gave a tentative swing with it and exclaimed. It almost looked like a toy and not a real weapon. Again he saw Sith glyphs written across the middle and he knew it was Lord Tammutyen's name in Sith. However, it looked as though the Sith had written it in blood, since the glyphs were red. The double-bladed sword looked clean and polished, but the leather which had been wrapped around its middle to make it easier for a person to hold it spoke clearly of its frequent use. He probably had to change it every now and then. The spiked Saragon seemed like a horrible threat at the time; but this rod-alike, light sword was not very intimidating.

Master Brulli-Yan was an oval-faced, well proportioned man. His shoulders were not as broad as master Gar-Gan's, but he was a man of considerable physical strength. It came natural to him; it was just the way he was built. And there were times he was sorry about this, times when he hated his his broad back and strong legs because he believed that a Jedi was not supposed to look like that, that it implied the lack of mental strength, as opposed to that of his body. But nothing he ever did, no matter how little he tried to eat, ever seemed to affect his build and the way nature made him. He did not have any Droddian cousins, as far as he was aware of it. He was pureblood Albinian, born in an Albinian province on the Third Continent and he arrived as a small boy at the Jedi Temple, to be taught in the ways of the Force.

But this Lord Tammutyen certainly looked like a Droddian, he thought. And right now he was furling his black mane atop of his head just like Lady Tarralyanna did. Master Brulli-Yan turned to master Gar-Gan, pulling him aside. They had to go through their plan and tactics once again.

In the meantime the same strange farewell was taking place among the Sith apprentices. The other two got to their feet and Lord Tammutyen embraced them in turn. They patted each other on the back, exchanged a few quick, hissing words and then parted. Lord Tammutyen quickly untied his cloak and tossed it unceremoniously upon the ground, as though he was in a hurry to do so.

Of course, only the Sith knew why. He could not wait. For Lord Tammutyen this was the chance of a lifetime and his fingers trembled with excitement as he untied his cloak. As soon as he was done, he did the same with his shirt, which flew in a wide arc and landed somewhere behind the two Sith. Now naked from waist up, he quickly turned on his heel and lowered himself on his one knee before the Dark Lord, who whispered a single word to him. Lord Tammutyen got to his feet so fast it looked as though he jumped, picked up his weapon and marched out on the clearing in a long, impatient pace.

Master Quallath stared at his broad, tattooed back. Judging according to his build, one would say he was definitely Droddian. However, it was obvious that his skin underneath all those tattoos was deadly pale. As though he was not alive, master Quallath thought, staring at his naked back.

Whatever master Brulli-Yan thought of strength and how he was full of muscles he did not want, it was nothing compared to the sight which met his eyes. The Sith was made out of nothing else, it seemed. Looking as though he had been chiselled in stone, with lumps, grids and long stripes of muscles under that pale skin, he resembled the Droddian war deity, he thought. The Jedi across the clearing stared at him with growing anxiety. They were doomed, master Gar-Gan and master Brulli-Yan, they thought. This was an opponent who had been born for battle; a man who lived to kill.

His intimidating physique was marked with many scars and the one on his chest made master Brulli-Yan flinch. He wondered where he got that one from. Upon reflection, he supposed that it was the result of the Dark Lord's punishment. He supposed that the Sith had been rebellious and disobedient in the course of his training and that the Dark Lord punished him many times.

The Sith paused in the middle of the clearing, shook his enormous arms and flexed his neck. Next he grabbed his weapon more firmly and gave it a quick turn in his right hand. When he next looked up, the two Jedi, his opponents, were standing also naked from waist up across him and watching him without blinking. They seemed to want to honour this tradition as well. The Sith grinned broadly and the Jedi gasped. He did not have normal teeth. Instead he had fangs, which looked razor-sharp. They had never seen something as horrible as that in their whole lives. His eyes were dark, yes, and his hair was black – all of that appointed to him being Droddian. But this – this was a mark of his inhumanity. He was a beast, not a man.

The Sith slowly and threateningly assumed combat position and lifted his weapon. Silence fell on the Jedi as he beckoned toward his two opponents, wearing a nasty expression on his face. As he did so, the two Jedi could clearly feel the Dark side extending from him in raging, destructive waves – a deadly force just waiting to be unleashed.

The two Jedi got into combat position and waited with their swords on high. It so seemed that Lord Tammutyen expected them to attack first. But when they did not, he made a few quick running paces in their direction and let out a horrible battle yell which made everyone twitch. The following moment he literally threw himself at them like a tiger, swinging with his Ptah.

He jumped and hit one of the Jedi with his knee in the face, landing and immediately dropping down to a crouch, making a quick sweeping movement with one of his feet, pulling the other Jedi, who was behind him, to the ground. The following moment he kicked off and launched himself in the air, propelled by the Dark side and landed behind them, swinging with his Ptah while he was still in the air. Master Brulli-Yan ducked, only to be hit straight in the stomach with an enormous fist which appeared out of thin air. His face contorted in pain and for a moment it looked as though he was about to cry out; but the following second blood began to ooze from his mouth and he fell on his knees.

In the meantime the Sith was now fighting with master Gar-Gan, to whom it was crystal clear that he could not use his strength and speed, with or without the Force, against such an opponent. It became clear to the Jedi, as they watched them continue their fight, that the Sith was toying with master Gar-Gan. It did not look as though he wanted the duel to end any time soon and he kept jumping around master Gar-Gan, who tried to catch him while he was still airborne, but he soon concluded he could not keep up the pace. He was at his best on the ground; and he had to get the Sith down somehow. He noted the way in which the Sith would spin his weapon and the one instance in which he stuck out his elbow in order to pass it under his arm. He saw his chance – and he took it. When the Sith did it again, he made a quick stab with his sword and the blade went right through the Sith's arm. Just as he was about to yell in triumph, he felt a nasty stab in his shoulder. He too got wounded, it seemed.

The monumental Sith did not even flinch. The only sign that he was in pain and that master Gar-Gan's blade went right through his flesh was an inhuman expression of rage on the Sith's pale face. As the dark eyes fixed upon him, master Gar-Gan noticed that his arm was covered in black liquid which seemed to be coming from the wound. But master Gar-Gan could not be surprised with anything any more. He guessed at once it had to be the Sith's blood. Triumphantly he spun his sword just as the Sith had been doing it and grinned nastily at him. As the Sith grinned back, he noticed with a pang that the deep wound was healing before his very eyes. The skin was rapidly growing from each side until the wound was completely healed and the only sign that he had been wounded was a trace of, now completely dry, black blood.

Now master Gar-Gan got a little frightened. This Sith could heal himself as quickly as he could jump over his head – and he felt that a duel against such an opponent was not really fair. What was he?

But he had no time to ponder on it since the Sith threw himself at him. Master Gar-Gan kicked off, knowing what was coming. Both of them had the same thought in mind and their feet collided in mid-air with a loud thump which made everyone think something was definitely broken. It was impossible to tell, since the Sith rolled over and jumped to his feet as soon as he landed, like an eel, whereas master Gar-Gan rolled across the ground as well, but got to his feet in a more contemporary fashion. The Sith hissed something through his teeth, flexing his neck, and fixed the glance of his dark eyes which were flashing with the Dark side upon master Gar-Gan, the muscles on his neck so taut it looked as though they were going to burst.

"You do not scare me, Sith," master Gar-Gan growled.

He tried all his life to ignore and suppress his Droddian nature and heated blood, but now he let it all out. Now his heritage could be of avail to him whereas the Jedi ideals and principles could not.

This was the time to fight a beast – and one could do that only by becoming one, too. The Sith grinned nastily once again and beckoned.

The duel went on and on, for what seemed like an eternity. The Sith and the Jedi fought like there was no tomorrow, their blades flashing, their shrieks echoing the clearing. Master Gar-Gan had never lost a duel in his life and was considered to be the embodiment of physical strength. But unlike master Brulli-Yan, he learned to live with it, to accept it as something natural, not to hate it and get best out of it. But he knew better than to try to get close to the Sith. However, it became clear to him that the Sith seemed to avoid the blade of his sword. And he could not understand why. If he had the ability to heal his own wounds – or rather, his own body – then why would he try to avoid the blade in such an obvious fashion?

Master Gar-Gan threw himself at him, ignoring his plan of keeping well away from him, meaning to try and stab him, to inflict him more pain with the Jalá blade, but the monumental Sith pushed him away with his chest, solely with the strength of his body, and then ran after him, letting out an angry, animal roar.

He spun his Ptah in his hand and plunged forward, ready to stab the place on the ground where master Gar-Gan had been lying until a moment ago, but he rolled away. As master Gar-Gan was to get to his feet, the Sith kicked off and jumped right down on master Gar-Gan's legs. There was a horrible sound of breaking bone and all Jedi held their breaths. Master Gar-Gan shrieked in pain and the Sith, still standing atop of him, spun his Ptah and pointed one of the blades at his throat.

"You caused me far more trouble than you should have," he said in Albinian, to master Gar-Gan's great surprise.

The Jedi and the Sith stared at each other. The Sith was breathing heavily, his hairless chest heaving quickly up and down. He was still standing on master Gar-Gan's broken legs and did not show any intention in moving soon.

"If you expect me to apologise," master Gar-Gan growled, fighting for breath and trying very hard to remain conscious, "then I must disappoint you, _Sith_."

The Sith seemed to be thinking about how to kill him. And judging by his hungry glance the Jedi were almost certain he was going to. Just as master Quallath opened his mouth to say something, the Dark Lord yelled. The Sith turned his head in his direction, looking as though he was torn out of a murderous trance, and nodded at him. He jumped down on the ground and extended a hand to the Jedi.

"For a Jedi," he said in a deep voice, as he pulled the Jedi to his feet, "you fight well."

To everyone's enormous surprise, he grabbed master Gar-Gan around the middle and lifted a hand in the direction of the Jedi, obviously calling them. The Sith held master Gar-Gan until the last minute, who threw his one arm around the Sith's shoulders, before he let him go. The Jedi master fell into the arms of the Jedi, who only now understood what happened. Flexing his arm, the formidable Sith departed in a long stride toward the Dark Lord, who was watching all this with his hands crossed on his back. He knelt before the Dark Lord, who nodded solemnly at him.

Lady Tarralyanna sat down beside him as soon as he joined them under the tree and started washing his arm. They did not speak; but master Quallath thought that Lord Tammutyen used the Dark side in order to speak to the third apprentice. Was he worried? If the Dark Lord had been sending his apprentices according to their talents to battle, then it would logical to presume that the third apprentice was the worst. However, he could not understand how the two Sith who he had already seen in battle could have such different fighting styles. Each of them seemed to know his or her strengths and each of them was using them. It so seemed that the Dark Lord had a different approach with each one of them, but to teach three individuals different things at the same time had to be very time-consuming. He also had to have an insight into their strengths and weaknesses, which was something the Jedi Order left to the Jedi themselves.

"He broke master Brulli-Yan's ribs," master Quallath hissed as the Dark Lord turned in his direction. "And both legs of master Gar-Gan's."

"Yes, well, that can happen," the Dark Lord said without a flinch, without any hint of a smile or an expression of triumph, though it was a fact that the Sith just won two duels. "If you like, I can send Lord Tammutyen over and he can set his bones back. He is an expert at this; he learned the art of healing on himself, you see."

"To set his bones back?" master Quallath echoed, emphasising every word. "What about master Brulli-Yan?"

"My apprentice showed his respect only to master Gar-Gan," the Dark Lord said in an even voice. "Because he lasted until the end. My apprentice seems to think master Gar-Gan was a worthy opponent and is certainly ready to help him to get better. And I fully support him in this."

He would help him to get better? This was definitely a Droddian trait. Master Quallath had already seen and heard enough to have a vague picture of what the Sith valued highly and what they despised. Therefore it was not very surprising to find out that this beast wanted to show respect to master Gar-Gan. The Sith system of values certainly seemed strange and perverted; but master Quallath was beginning to understand the Sith a little better. Normally he would not allow such a thing; but he was aware of the fact that no such injuries had ever occurred among the Jedi and that he himself had no idea how to help his friend.

"All right," he said. "Send him over."

He marched back across the clearing to the Jedi. He was reluctant to give master Gar-Gan over to the Sith to 'set his bones back', whatever he meant by that. But something about the appearance of the Sith made him believe he could indeed help him. The Dark Lord must had broken his arms and legs dozens of times in a fit of anger – and this was why this Sith had to learn how to stay alive, how to heal himself, how to mend his own bones and cuts. The horrible scar he had on his chest made master Quallath wonder how the Sith ever remained alive, since the scar was at the exact same place where the human heart should be.

"He will not touch me!" master Gar-Gan yelled as soon as master Quallath told him about Lord Tammutyen wanting to help him.

"It is the only way we can make certain you will be able to walk again," master Quallath said, glancing with worry over his old friend. "I am certain he knows everything about broken legs and arms. I, however, have only a vague idea how to help you."

"I do not care!" master Gar-Gan barked. "I want to die! I have lost! My legs are broken! I have nothing more to live for!"

"Nonsense," master Quallath said, exasperated.

There it goes again, his Droddian blood showing its ugly face, master Quallath thought.

"We shall learn more about them that way, Gar-Gan. I know he would not hurt you any more than he did, because he already fought with you—" Master Gar-Gan spat a terrible curse in Droddian, to the surprise and shock of every present Jedi. "Let him do this –have you seen his own body? Have you seen what the Dark Lord has done to him? He must have mastered healing when he was just a boy. Now shush, he is coming."

The tall figure of the Sith was crossing the clearing. He was holding something in his hands and was wearing his clothes again. When he arrived to the Jedi, who were staring at him in silence, he waved a hand and the Jedi got to their feet, moving aside as to let him pass. Only master Quallath remained kneeling beside the angry master Gar-Gan, whose eyes were blazing with hatred he could not hide. The Sith seemed to have little interest in master Quallath. He lowered himself down on the ground beside master Gar-Gan and placed his hands on one of his broken legs. As soon as the Sith touched him, he hissed in pain and spat out another curse in Droddian. To everyone's surprise, the Sith just smiled.

"You race accepts defeat honourably," he told him in Droddian. "Why can you not do the same?"

Master Gar-Gan froze and was about to retort when he felt paralysed by the chill which surrounded his leg. The Sith seemed to be probing with the Dark side as to see what the problem was. For a while he inspected his leg with a glassy look, until he sighed with understanding. Master Quallath stared at him as he extended a powerful hand of the Dark side and wrapped it around the bone. Without hesitation, as though he had done it a million times, he gave a quick and determined tug with the Dark side and master Gar-Gan hissed in pain. However he seemed to be determined not to cry out. The attention of the Sith moved to the other leg and his brow furrowed a little as he skimmed with the Dark side over it. The bone seemed to be smashed in many places.

Master Quallath watched him without a word. He had not been wrong. This Sith had a lot of experience with healing bones and seemed to have an excellent feeling for it. He did not want to meddle in but he could feel him gathering up many pieces of the broken bone and bringing them together. Again he gripped the two pieces of the bone and brought them together, making master Gar-Gan pant in an effort not to scream. The Sith did not seem to be going about it the gentle way, but was determined to do it properly. Whether master Gar-Gan was in pain or not seemed to be irrelevant to him. But then again, he himself must had done it a hundred times, judging according to the way he did not even flinch when master Gar-Gan's blade went right through his flesh. He was used to pain and thought everyone else was, too.

"Here," he said in his deep voice, offering the jar he brought with himself to master Quallath. "Put a lot of it on the swollen spots. It shall ease the regeneration of the bone and help with the swelling. It has to be combined with Force-healing sessions, of course."

He did not ask master Quallath whether master Gar-Gan knew how to do this. He obviously assumed he did. Now that his bones were back in their places and once the Sith took care of the tiny pieces of broken bones which remained in the flesh, one had to of course speed up the healing process with the use of the Force. Master Quallath stared at him as he took the jar.

"It is a mixture of many herbs and some boiled berries," the Sith said, clearly understanding that master Quallath was wondering what was in that jar. "It is quite suited for application on any flesh. I myself have been using it for many years."

He gave him a nod, got to his feet, turned and then nodded at master Gar-Gan, who was lying on the ground and staring at him with unhidden hatred. The two of them were the only people he looked at – and now master Quallath could understand why. He respected master Gar-Gan for his abilities, having seen them up close; and he respected master Quallath because he was the equivalent of his own master, because he was the Head of the Jedi Order and their leader. He headed down the slope in his long stride, his black cloak billowing behind him. When he arrived to the tree, the Dark Lord placed a hand on his shoulder and asked him something. The Sith replied and the Dark Lord patted him on the shoulder.

"That..." master Gar-Gan spat as soon as the Sith was out of earshot, "damn son of a...!"

Here followed a quick and fierce sentence in Droddian no one needed to understand to know it was a vile curse. Master Quallath, however, was not paying attention to his curses. He was far more interested in the medicine the Sith gave them. He pulled the jar open and gave it a tentative sniff.

"Holy Force," he whispered, glancing over the contents of the jar. "If I did not know better... this looks like Caelian medicine."

"Perhaps they know of it," one Jedi said gravely.

Master Quallath pressed his lips together and got to his knees beside master Gar-Gan again, smearing the paste over his legs despite of his loud protests and then handing the jar over to the Jedi, who wanted to use the medicine on master Brulli-Yan, thinking it would help with his broken ribs, too. As master Quallath held out his hands in order to start healing master Gar-Gan with the Force, he had hundreds of questions in his head. Caelian medicine in the hands of the Sith? How did that happen?


	53. Chapter 52 - Part Four

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I write because I can't help myself. :)

This is the last chapter. I will publish the Epilogue soon. Since I wrote the Prologue a few weeks ago and wanted to publish it, I had to delete all chapters first, publish the Prologue and then put the chapters back. Sorry for the confusion I created and for the notification mails those who follow my story received.

Cassie

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CAP. LII– The last stand of the Light, Part Two

Fluffy violet clouds had by now covered the whole sky – but they were not rain clouds, everyone noted. They rather seemed to be there, to exist, solely for the purpose of covering the sun, so that it would not trouble the Sith.

After one long hour master Quallath stepped away from master Gar-Gan, whose breathing steadied and his flow of curses ceased, and looked around himself. The two Jedi who were next to partake in the duels were not looking anxious. For some reason, they looked relieved. For they had seen the terrible fairy and the Droddian beast. And now there was not much more to be afraid of, they felt. That Sith sitting over there looked mediocre in his build. He was short and did not look very strong. He did not seem to pose much of a threat. As though reading their minds, master Quallath came to stand beside them and whispered into their ears:

"We do not know what that cloak is hiding," he said. "We have made wild assumptions before and they proved to be false. So expect all the worst and do not allow yourselves to be surprised or scared with the appearance of the Sith. He is not human – and whether or not he has fangs, blue eyes or a forked tail is quite irrelevant. He is your opponent; and you should have no mercy with him."

"We know that, master Quallath," the female Jedi master said earnestly.

The two Jedi who were waiting for the next duel were a short, half-Malaskian Jedi, by the name master Petti-Monh, and the agile, pureblood Albinian, whose name was master Forinya. Master Forinya taught swordsmanship at the Jedi Temple and she was not young, judging by her slightly wrinkled face. But her Force-sensitivity was excellent which was something that was beginning to matter greatly. Since it became clear to master Quallath that the physical strength and agility did not matter with the Sith, because they were clearly superior in it, it was obvious that the Jedi had to rely on the Force in order to stand a chance. And as time passed, master Quallath's glance began to flee in the direction of the Dark Lord, who was to be his own opponent. He was slowly bracing himself for what awaited him.

Master Forinya was a stern teacher, who did not allow any nonsense in her classroom, which was why the young Jedi did not like her and were on alert from her. However, she was the most level-headed person he had ever met. She demanded a lot from her students but she was an excellent teacher with years of experience behind her. As she followed master Quallath's glance to the four Sith, she bit her lip, vaguely wondering whether she should take her tunic off for the duel.

And in the shade of the tree, last piece of advice was being given to Tyananna, who sat quietly, stared at her hands and listened. Her pale face looked quite devoid of any emotion whatsoever; but her heart was hammering against her ribs.

As the Jedi finally decided it was time to move on and that they were ready, they noticed while they walked across the clearing that the Dark Lord was whispering into the ear of the third Sith apprentice. This made them breathe with relief. It so seemed that he required advice, which of course implied he was not ready for the duel and that the Dark Lord was worried. They stood a chance against him, they were certain.

("Here they come,") the Dark Lord said to Tyananna, who lifted her head.

Two Jedi were walking toward them, their brown cloaks billowing in the wind, lead by master Quallath, as before. Her throat clenched – she recognised them all right. Once she yearned to be taught by master Forinya, but since she was considered not to be talented enough to join her group, she never got the chance. She used to try to steal a glance of her classes, yearning to get the honour to be there, to be taught by her, to be one of the perhaps dozen being taught by her. Master Petti-Monh was a wise Jedi, always ready for a joke, but who could twine and wriggle out of a firm grip and pin even the most experienced Jedi to the floor. In combination with the Force, he was a very dangerous opponent in close combat. Therefore the advice of the Dark Lord was to keep well away from him.

Tyananna slowly got to her feet and stared at them, swallowing something bitter. The following moment the Dark Lord placed a hand on her shoulder and suddenly all of her anxiety evaporated. It was a simple gesture, so very simple and possibly insignificant; but to her, it meant everything. He was right here, beside her, and he was supporting her in all that she was about to do. He could understand her nervousness and he did not yell at her because of it. Tyananna lifted her chin and stood silent beside her master, who turned to the Jedi.

"Is master Gar-Gan better, my apprentice asks?" the Dark Lord asked master Quallath.

The latter looked at him strangely and nodded.

"Yes, he will be better soon," he said. "I have been healing him for an hour; and as his bones now seem to be in place, they are beginning to heal."

"Excellent," the Dark Lord said, turning to Lord Tammutyen, who nodded at master Quallath.

"This is Tyananna of the Sith," the Dark Lord said.

Tyananna felt a wave of pride washing over her. She was not a lady yet; but the Dark Lord expressed her belonging to the Sith Order clearly enough, what had been meant for her, of course, not for the Jedi. She straightened up, whereas the two Jedi exchanged glances. Another female? Was Tyananna a female name? They had no idea. It surprised them a little that someone like the Dark Lord actually had two female apprentices. They rather imagined he would prefer apprentices like Lord Tammutyen.

"She is your opponent."

The Dark Lord glanced over the two Jedi standing before him, made a pace in their direction and then began to inspect them through the eyes of the Dark side. The two Jedi stood quite still as the hand of the Dark side brushed against their swords. All the while master Forinya was staring at him as though hoping she might kill him with her venomous, stern glance. But the Dark Lord seemed to be immune to it, unlike everyone else.

Satisfied, the Dark Lord turned away from them and extended a hand in Tyananna's direction. She quickly took her M'Hoor and gave it to him with her head bowed. All the Jedi could see was a pale chin; but they did not care what was hidden underneath that black hood. They had already seen a lot of things and felt they were beyond surprises.

"This is M'Hoor," the Dark Lord said, unsheathing Tyananna's pet sword, with her name written in large Sith glyphs across the middle of it.

She was exceedingly proud of it, proud of what she had done to a bit of metal. It was her product, her making, her creation; and she loved every inch of it. She felt quite comfortable with it and she was grateful for the fact she would be able to go to battle with it. She could endure the most confusing and horrible trainings of her Master's with her M'Hoor in her hands. It was an extension of her own hands and she felt quite safe with it. She used to sleep with it, not because she was afraid someone might attack her in her sleep, but because it was her companion and she treated it as though it was a living thing. And to see her Master holding it in his hands sent shivers of joy down her spine.

"It does not demand such a perfect feeling for balance, size and weight from its user, as the Ptah does," the Dark Lord spoke, as though giving a lecture, while master Quallath picked it up and glanced over it. "But rather a feeling for movement and timing. For someone like Tyananna, it is perfect."

"And has she, too, been practising with it since she was three?" master Quallath asked with a note of annoyance in his voice.

Tyananna had often seen him often at the Temple, while she was there. When she was young, she saw him as a person who had to be respected. He was the highest authority in the Temple, but at the same time, master Quallath was a mystery. She often speculated with Waak what he was capable of and she used to believe he was capable of anything.

But now, he was just a confused old man. He was powerful as a Jedi, no doubt about it; but Tyananna saw him now for the first time through the eyes of a Sith who could not be easily impressed or intimidated. Even he – the most powerful living Jedi – could look confused and angry underneath that mask of calmness and it was obvious to her that he was anxious.

"Oh, no," the Dark Lord said with a smile. "She has been my student for five years."

"Five years?" master Quallath echoed.

He skimmed with his glance over Tyananna, who kept staring at him without blinking under the hood.

"Quite so," the Dark Lord answered.

He placed a hand on Tyananna's shoulder and gave her a little push in the back, which meant she was to go and get ready for the duel, while master Quallath and the Dark Lord remained standing there.

"That remedy your apprentice brought to master Gar-Gan," master Quallath began, watching Tyananna with the corner of his eye, who was now making a tight bun with Lady Tarralyanna's help.

Master Quallath was not surprised to see she did not have brown hair as an Albinian would or curly hair as Malaskians did. Of course, he thought; she was not human. He only wondered whether she had a tail.

"That looked like Caelian medicine to me, Dark Lord."

"Oh, I imagine it did," the Dark Lord said airily. "Lord Tammutyen uses it often. It is very effective."

"Yes, but where did he learn how to make such remedies?" master Quallath persisted.

He had it on the tip of his tongue to ask the Dark Lord how many times had he broken his legs and arms in order to prove his point and how many lashes did a Sith receive when he did not obey his orders, but he chose to say nothing.

"Caelian scholars, of course," the Dark Lord said matter-of-factly, looking at him in surprise.

"You have been to the Caelians?" master Quallath asked.

"Oh no, master Quallath," the Dark Lord with a hint of amusement in his normally emotionless voice. "But the Sith of old have. It is tradition to pass on the knowledge, you see; and Lord Tammutyen has been ordered to learn as much as he could about healing when he was very young – for it was obvious he would need it."

"To heal himself after all of your punishments, you mean," master Quallath interjected, this time unable to help himself.

The red-haired Sith had taken off her cloak and now she bent over to tighten the laces on her boots.

"Each has his own cross to bear," the Dark Lord said mysteriously.

Master Quallath turned to the two Jedi to see whether they were ready. Master Forinya was staring at the Sith apprentice with her lips pressed tightly together. When master Quallath next turned around, the Sith apprentice was already on her feet after she greeted the Dark Lord in the same fashion the other two apprentices did, and was walking with her back turned toward him across the clearing, her sword in her hand.

Master Forinya and master Petti-Monh followed her, staring at her broad back. It was pretty obvious why everyone had mistaken her for a man. She had exceedingly broad back for a woman, which was, predictably, covered in tattoos. The Sith seemed to put everything they thought of on their bodies, including their mottoes and sentences which they found inspiring. No one could read Sith, but it was pretty obvious what they were. Just like Lady Tarralyanna, she was wearing something tied around her breasts, but as far as master Forinya could see, she did not need it. Her chest was completely flat. Her fingers seemed to be playing with the hilt of her sword and she kept her glance fixed upon a dot on the horizon. Master Forinya felt no pity for her. She was perhaps one of the few Jedi who could put their pity aside and she had already been scolded for her lack of compassion by a few Jedi masters.

As the Sith stopped in the middle of the clearing and turned toward them, she fixed her glance upon the two Jedi and flexed her muscular arms. Only then could the Jedi actually see her face.

Despite of her red hair, despite of her appearance, master Forinya nearly dropped her sword in shock as she recognised her. Master Petti-Monh stared at her with his mouth hanging open; and master Quallath ran over to her, unable to stop himself.

"Master Quallath!" the Dark Lord yelled after him.

Master Quallath stopped dead in his tracks, still staring at the Sith apprentice. She, however, was not paying any attention to him, but stood as though rooted to the spot with her glance fixed upon her opponents. The two Jedi were torn between the desire to run over to her and to remain where they were.

"Leave my apprentice alone," the Dark Lord hissed.

The Dark Lord needed no threats to make it clear he meant what he said and that he expected to be obeyed.

"But..." master Quallath started, pointing a finger in the direction of the Sith. He looked as though he had gone mad. "I must see her!" he spluttered. "Is it really...? Could it be...?"

The Jedi had in the meantime gotten to their feet and they tried to take a better look, but the Sith was standing too far away. She did not seem to be aware of the commotion because she still stood there with her glance fixed upon the two Jedi before her, not moving a muscle.

"LARYNTHE!" master Quallath yelled all of a sudden. "IT IS ME, MASTER QUALLATH! Do you not remember me?"

And still the Sith remained motionless.

Master Quallath turned angrily toward the Dark Lord.

"What have you done to her?" he roared, pointing his finger in Tyananna's direction.

"Resurrected her from the dead," the Dark Lord said flatly, looking unaffected by master Quallath's rage. "And took her with me to teach her."

"Resurrected her...?" master Quallath spluttered, momentarily unable to understand what he was talking about.

But then it hit him – she must had gotten killed as well, in that encounter in the Land of Gnath. But for some reason, the Dark Lord resurrected her, whatever he meant by that and forced her to become his apprentice. His heart went icy cold.

"Does she not remember anything? Does she know who she used to be?" master Quallath asked.

"No," the Dark Lord said flatly. "And I would not try to talk to her if I were you, because she only sees a foe in you and remembers nothing of her old life. She only knows me and recognises my authority."

"What have you done to her?" master Quallath repeated in a hollow voice, unable to help himself.

He looked again in her direction, but she was still standing quite still and was obviously waiting for the duel to begin. The two Jedi tried very hard to catch her attention, not daring to come too close to her, but she did not react.

"I have made her my apprentice," the Dark Lord said simply. "I have travelled far and wide, master Quallath; I have seen much of the world; but I have not met any individuals who would be worthy students, though I have been searching for them. I have met your Jedi Larynthe, as her old name once was; and I saw potential in her. It is only very sad that you could not see it yourself."

Master Quallath looked as though he was slapped in the face. True, he remembered the girl, but only because she left the Temple with master Waak-Lin, going after master Bakku. He inquired about her, to learn more about her, but only when he heard she wanted to go on a mission with master Waak-Lin. And master Quallath was not impressed with what he learned about her. She was a mediocre swordsman, she was very emotional, of an average Force sensitivity and had no special talents or interests, except for her fascination with poetry. The reports of the teachers she used to have as a child all told him the same – there was nothing special about her, if one would exclude her friendship with the exceptionally talented master Waak-Lin.

And now she was here. She looked nothing like the Jedi apprentice he remembered. The effects and traces of the Dark Lord's training were clearly visible on her. For a woman, she was as strong as an ox, which was why he initially thought she was male. She had several tattoos, but it was pretty obvious she did not have the time to cover her whole body in them. Clearly the Dark Lord breathed life back into her with some horrible Dark side technique and made her inhuman. And now, brainwashed and devoid of any memory of her old life, of the life of a Jedi she used to have, she had become his pawn, his third little soldier in the formidable army he had created.

"A Jedi will not fight a Jedi," master Quallath said, turning back to look at the Dark Lord. "It is against the rules!"

"She is not a Jedi," the Dark Lord said, his eyes flashing with a threat he never uttered nor needed to. "She is a Sith. And she is my apprentice."

"Did she have a word in it? Did she say she wanted to fight?" master Quallath spat furiously.

"She obeys my orders," the Dark Lord said, straightening up. "That is why she is there, ready for battle, is she not?"

"Have you asked her what _she_ wants, Dark Lord?" master Quallath yelled.

He was beside himself. This was the last straw.

"She wants to serve the Dark side," the Dark Lord said.

As master Quallath showed every intention in interrupting him again, the Dark Lord lifted a hand and something flashed in his dark eyes. Master Quallath could clearly sense the Dark side swirling around him and resisted the urge to shudder.

"Has she not given you her answer when you tried to speak to her?" he hissed. "Was that not clear enough for you? To make you understand that she is not the person you once knew? She does not know you – she sees only a foe."

Master Quallath bit his lip and closed his eyes in resignation. It was just too much to bear. He could barely watch his friends and colleagues fighting the Sith; but to see someone who used to be a cheerful Jedi apprentice now standing there on the other side of the battlefield was too much for him.

He threw one last glance at the Sith standing unmovable in the middle of the clearing and then nodded at the Dark Lord.

"Surely you realise," he said, "that the Jedi will not have any mercy with her, despite of all."

"And I am sure you realise in turn," the Dark Lord said, "that she would have any mercy with them, either."

Master Quallath snorted instead of giving him an answer and strode off. The Dark Lord turned in Tyananna's direction and yelled out a harsh sentence in Sith. She nodded, her features hardening, hissing a single word which was quickly echoed by the two Sith apprentices who were standing beside the tree. The Jedi had heard it before – and some wondered what it meant. As it were, the word was "shesh'tah" and it meant "to rise" in Sith. This single word seemed to embody Tyananna's greatest strength. When the two echoed it with feeling, she felt as though she could grin. Whatever her Master told master Quallath, it certainly drove him away. For a moment she was certain he was going to run over to her and try to touch her or do something equally surprising, but he did not. Tyananna was just very surprised he even remembered her old name.

She took a deep breath and assumed combat position, tightening the grip on her sword. As the Jedi did the same, looking a little reluctant to do so, they half expected her to fight with the light side. But the throttling wave of rage, which had a single purpose, that of destruction, which spilled over them, was definitely not the light side.

Tyananna did not wait for them to start the duel. She did not think about what she was about to do, but spun her sword in her hand and charged at the two Jedi with a roar. Master Forinya quickly lifted her sword and the blade clashed with Tyananna's M'Hoor. The face of the older woman was devoid of any compassion, as she knew what she had to do. And if she had to kill this child because of it, then it had to be so. She has the nerves of steel, the master swordsman thought, following her well-practised movements, as she passed her sword from one hand to the other.

Master Petti-Monh, on the other hand, had taken a different approach. He ducked and slammed into Tyananna, hoping to knock her down. But Tyananna jumped as soon as she sensed his intentions, landed beside him and kicked him with her heel under the chin, at the same time lifting her sword to parry master Forinya's quick attack. The blade of her sword clashed against the Jedi's blade in a loud clank which produced sparks between two pieces of metal. Master Petti-Monh howled in pain, feeling that his chin was perhaps broken, as he could not move it and was spitting blood. Gathering strength and trying to breathe, he jumped back to his feet and lifted his sword.

When master Forinya felt the Dark side coming from her, she had no doubts in her mind she was a fully-fledged Sith. For her it was the last confirmation she needed to completely forget all about her pity and just fight for the honour of the Jedi Order.

Tyananna had no idea what the Dark Lord told them, but it so seemed they believed she could not remember her Jedi days. She could. And she was using everything she learned about their combat style. She also knew how master Forinya taught because she once asked Waak to teach her what master Forinya taught him. As Waak believed she would need it once they found the Sith, he acceded to it and taught her. Therefore Tyananna knew very well what to expect.

She kicked off with a fierce yell, propelled by the Dark side, and kicked both master Forinya and master Petti-Monh while she was still airborne. The Jedi seemed to forget that the Force could only make one's already existing abilities better and give one who was strong even more strength – and therefore she had the advantage of the fraction of a second her own physical strength gave her in order to kick the both of them with her feet in the face. As soon as she landed, she spun around her axis and kicked master Petti-Monh, who was undoubtedly slower than master Forinya, with her foot in the stomach. It was something Lord Tammutyen taught her. One's own strength was multiplied by the rotational movement of the body; and made ever greater by the Dark side. And she chose the right moment to do this, because she felt something crack before he flew through the air and rolled over, with blood oozing through his mouth.

Now she had only one opponent to think about.

"You do not have to do this, Larynthe," master Forinya yelled, lifting her sword again.

The Sith seemed to be able to anticipate their every movement and master Forinya was already considering changing her tactics. The muscles on the Sith's arm flexed dangerously as she faced her and bared her teeth.

"I am Tyananna," she said through her teeth.

Either she really could not remember her past life, master Forinya thought, or she was putting up a very good act. It did not matter.

Master Forinya threw herself at her and the Jedi could only see a brown dot which fizzed through their air and collided with the black one. A loud clank of metal echoed the woods and master Quallath's features hardened. Perhaps this Sith resembled a girl he once knew, but she was nothing like Larynthe. Larynthe could never fight like that. If what the Dark Lord told him was true – and he just did not see why he would lie about it – then what he was just seeing had been accomplished in five years. _How_ does he teach, he asked himself, now casting an offhand glance in his direction? The Dark Lord's face was a mask, as before; but in one short moment master Quallath saw a smile tugging the corners of those thin lips. Was it pride? Was the Dark Lord proud of his apprentice? Was it possible at all? For once, master Quallath had to agree with him, even though one of his friends was lying on the ground, probably with his ribs broken, and the other one still fighting. What he created out of her surpassed every law of nature, every expectation one might have of a human being's capabilities. But then again, she was not human.

As he noticed that the Sith's side was covered in something blue, he got his last bit of proof he needed. Master Forinya did not seem to be surprised with this and did not show any kind of reaction. For the first time since the duels began, master Quallath began to realise they were going to lose. A part of him knew he should not be ashamed to lose, since they were all clearly not human and it was not a fair fight. But another part of him felt crushed and he began to consider the alternatives. He began to think about his own upcoming duel, knowing he was about to die. He only hoped no one else would have to die.

Master Forinya was not sparing herself. Drawing quick, painful breaths, she kept mercilessly attacking Tyananna from all sides, trying to find her weak spot. It was just how the mind of a master swordsman worked. She succeeded, actually, twice. But not one hint of pleasure or triumph could be seen on her lined face. She was simply fighting without thinking about winning or losing and Tyananna had to admire her for that despite of herself.

Tyananna pushed her away with the Dark side and the older woman flew through the air, remembering, however, to use the Force in order to soften her fall and counter the Sith. Tyananna lifted her hand, but it was too late. She got hit and rolled over. She spat a mouthful of blue blood, hissed in anger and jumped to her feet, hastily clearing her mind with the Dark side. Without thinking about it, she pointed a finger at her sword which was lying a few feet away from her and bolted. Given speed atop of her own by the Dark side, she was a black dot which sprinted across the clearing, chasing after master Forinya who had used this welcome break in order to catch her breath, but was now forced to run.

Tyananna threw her sword and started spinning it with the Dark side until it was a blur of metal.

She did not learn that from me, the Dark Lord thought with amusement, watching her. It acted as a propeller, which fizzed straight at master Forinya. She ducked right on time to avoid getting beheaded and jumped to her feet, only to be knocked down once again by Tyananna, who threw herself at her like a charging bull. The two women fell on the ground together with a sickening thump and Tyananna grabbed her for her neck, meaning to strangle her. Master Forinya pushed her away with the Force and managed to grab her wrists. Her hands were as cold as that of a corpse, she thought.

The Dark side and the light side vibrated between their palms as they wrestled on the ground. The Jedi could see the battle between two sides of the Force, fighting against each other for prevalence, spitting sparks and explosions which were visible only through the eyes of the Force. A few droplets of Tyananna's blue blood dripped from her mouth over master Forinya' tunic, just as she felt her fingers breaking. The Sith was squeezing her hands with an ugly look of rage on her face. She screamed and the Jedi watched, mortified. Staring up in the eyes of the girl she once knew and which were now two bottomless pits of anger, thousand pictures began to flash through her mind. Larynthe laughing, sitting under a tree with master Waak-Lin, who was telling her stories; Larynthe trying to watch one of her lessons, only to be discovered by master Forinya herself; Larynthe bowing her head as new apprentices were being called out, to which list she did not belong. This was not that girl. That girl was dead.

Tyananna of the Sith hissed and bared her teeth as she made a sudden and quick movement with her muscular arms – and master Forinya screamed for the second time so loudly her voice broke and then lost her consciousness. The Jedi stared, speechless. It so seemed that the Sith had broken master Forinya's elbows, if one was to judge according to the way her underarms stuck out at strange angles.

There was a loud shout from the Dark Lord and the Sith breathed, staring down at the unconscious Jedi as though she just realised what she had done. It was over. Tyananna glanced around herself, took a deep breath, spat a mouthful of blood and then got to her feet. She looked up to see a group of Jedi who slowly edged forward, staring at her. Tyananna of the Sith stared back at the people who she once knew and lifted her chin. She had done it.

The Jedi bent over master Forinya, but most of them still gaped at Tyananna. For one long moment they stared at each other, after what Tyananna spat for the second time and nodded at everyone. They were nothing to her – but enemies. She turned around and strode back to the Sith, where she rightfully belonged, pointing a casual finger at nothing in particular, at what her sword zoomed into her outstretched hand. She could feel their stares on her back, but she did not care. When she reached the Dark Lord, however, and sensed his powerful presence, she felt as though a burden lifted from her chest. She had done it – and she was going to show respect to the man who gave all this to her. To the man who created her and made her who she was.

She dropped to her both knees before him, bowed her hand and buried her face in his black cloak. Master Quallath could hear the Dark Lord whispering to her while her broad, sweaty back trembled. Was she crying? It was impossible to tell. But when she next got to her feet, she was grinning broadly and went to join the two Sith apprentices, who patted her on the back.

Master Quallath marched over to the Dark Lord, trembling with rage.

"We said – we agreed – no killing!" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the Dark Lord.

Tyananna turned around and stared at him. Who did she kill? Surely she did not hit that half-Malaskian _that_ hard?

"Who is dead, then?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Oh, she is not dead yet, but she is nearly there," master Quallath barked.

"Your master swordsman?" the Dark Lord asked placidly. He cast a glance in Tyananna's direction. "I do not blame my apprentice for anything that happened. I have seen it through the Dark side – surely you followed the duel through the Force, too. She crushed her fingers and then broke her elbows. Your master swordsman fainted due to pain, but that is it. My apprentice did not kill her."

Tyananna looked down on her hands. She had no idea what she had done – she only remembered she wanted to hurt master Forinya very, very badly. It sounded as though she succeeded at it. Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna's opponents were more or less all right. They all sort of expected Lord Tammutyen to accidentally kill someone, but not Tyananna. But while she fought, she was in a sort of a trance and had no idea what she was doing. The Dark side had been guiding her and now that the duel was over, she felt so exhausted she could barely sit. She had never fought like this. She gave her very best – and more than that.

She sat, lost in her thoughts, while Lady Tarralyanna was taking care of her wounds. On her left side, Lord Tammutyen was preparing a needle and a thread for Lady Tarralyanna to sew Tyananna's wound.

"The rules clearly state," the Dark Lord said loudly, as master Quallath showed every sign of interruption, "That injury or death are allowed, if they happen during the battle. My apprentice did not stab your Jedi, nor did she crush her heart. If master Forinya is hanging between life and death, then it is because of her own poor physical fitness. It is obvious that her own body was unable to endure the strain. Surely you must realise that."

"So now what?" master Quallath barked, looking and sounding half-crazy. "It is not enough to kill the Jedi who happen to cross your path, but you have to abduct one, twist her mind with the Dark side and brainwash her. Now what do you want to do?"

"You forget yourself, master Quallath," the Dark Lord said coldly. "You have had your say about the one who used to be Jedi Larynthe while she was at the Jedi Temple. You did not believe her to be talented enough to be taught, nor did you ever count her in when making a list of apprentices who would go on a mission. You did not need her. But I did. I have clearly seen something in her that you have not, something that you missed; and she is now rightfully _my _apprentice. You have no right to try to insult her or what she has accomplished, and I, as her master, will not allow it. Surely a man like you can recognise a great warrior when he sees one. And having accomplished what she has in those five years she spent with me clearly proves she has been born to be a Sith, and not a Jedi."

Master Quallath was left speechless. For a few moments he stood rebellious and shaking with emotion, after what he suddenly threw his hands in the air with the air of a man who was tired of living.

He made a resolute pace forward and brought himself into the face of the Dark Lord.

"One more duel, Dark Lord," he hissed. "You and I."

The Dark Lord straightened up and gave him a long, penetrating look.

"You seem like a man who has nothing to live for," he said.

"Indeed that is how I feel," master Quallath answered truthfully. "You are quite right."

"We have won all three duels – do you agree?" the Dark Lord asked.

"I agree," master Quallath said.

"My apprentices were ordered not to kill and your Jedi fought in the same manner," the Dark Lord went on. "You and I, I daresay, are beyond such restrictions. Do you agree with that as well?"

Let him kill me, master Quallath thought. It will be an honourable death indeed. He considered not fighting at all, for the cause was already lost; but he could not go back and face the Jedi or the world, for that matter, without facing the Dark Lord of the Sith. Even if that cost him his life. Greatness has its price, his old master once told him, and now he remembered this and could perfectly understand it for the first time in his long life.

"Yes," he answered.

The Dark Lord glanced over him and sighed, shaking his head.

"Do you have a partner? Have you chosen her, or him?" he asked in what one could call a paternal tone.

"I have," master Quallath answered wearily.

"Very well," the Dark Lord said, nodding. "I shall be waiting for you right here and drinking coffee, if you do not mind."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

"She twisted my arms!" master Forinya squealed as soon as she came to her senses, her eyes still watering in pain.

"No one blames you," master Quallath said as he glanced over her. "You fought excellent. I am proud of you."

"Quallath," she whispered, shaking, now remembering what was about to happen. "Please do not go there. He is going to kill you, you know that?"

Finally she voiced the fears and doubts of all Jedi and everyone fixed their glances upon master Quallath, who simply stared at her.

"I must go," master Quallath said.

He was not afraid of death; but he was afraid of what he would leave behind.

"No!" master Forinya yelled. "Tell him that we accept his conditions. You know that we have already lost, do you not?"

"I could not face the world and the people while standing alive, having surrendered because I did not want to get killed," master Quallath said firmly.

"Does it matter what people think?" master Forinya asked. "Does the future of the Order matter more than your own reputation? This is your pride speaking, not you, Quallath. Do you not see that? He wants you to go there – and he is going to kill you. They are not human, they are beasts – and we should accept defeat. If he keeps to his word, we will be fine. We will go back to the Jedi Temple and go on with our lives as before."

"Nothing will ever be as it was," master Quallath said, shaking his head. "You will be fine without me," he whispered, getting to his feet. "Just put your trust in the Force."

He walked away, meaning to go there alone. Another Jedi got to his feet and quickly followed him back across the clearing. Master Forinya gave a loud sob, tears streaming down her face. She could not bear to look at her good friend marching like that to his own death. It was his own decision and it was his life. And yet – did he not have duties toward the Jedi Order? For master Quallath, this was exactly what it was – his duty.

"We are ready," master Quallath said.

The four Sith had been drinking coffee until then. There was not one hint of a smile or pleasure on their faces, he noted; not one hint of triumph. They were all sitting together in a circle, drinking coffee and talking. The Dark Lord's hood turned toward master Quallath and slowly, he got to his feet. Followed by the glances of his apprentices, he approached him.

"Master Quallath," he said in a quiet, almost solemn voice. "I want you to know that I have meant what I promised. I promised the Jedi Order to live in peace, as long as it did not interfere with my plans and remain at the Jedi Temple. I have sworn on the Dark side."

"I know you will keep your promise," master Quallath said.

"Then why do you want to die so badly?" the Dark Lord asked.

Master Quallath thought for some time, with the Dark Lord watching him carefully.

"If I remain alive and if the Jedi Order returns to the Temple, defeated," he said slowly, "I will lose my purpose and everything I have lived for. I could not go on with my life."

"I see," the Dark Lord said, nodding. "And I understand."

"I am not sure you do," master Quallath said. "But it is all right."

"Yes," the Dark Lord said, waving a hand. "Very well. I shall inspect you."

Master Quallath's partner was master Feth. And Master Quallath felt at peace as the Dark Lord skimmed with the Dark side over him. He had already named him his successor; and he took care of all of his business on this world. He was ready to die. Somehow he knew that the Dark Lord would spare master Feth's life and the thought was very comforting. He would die today, in his duel with the Dark Lord of the Sith and he would die an honourable death, for the world and for the Jedi Order. He would leave master Feth behind as the next Head of the Order, whereas the Jedi would return to the Temple and continue with their lives. Everything seemed to be in order.

Without further ado he took off his cloak, unsheathed his sword and walked out on the clearing, closely followed by master Feth. In master Quallath's opinion, though the Jedi Order had never gotten the chance to defend the noble name of the Jedi and fight for the freedom of the people, today it showed its true face and he was proud of his Order. They stood their ground and they did not lose sight of their ideals and principles. They found like Jedi – and master Quallath was proud of them.

The Dark Lord slowly took his cloak and his shirt off, pulling out his Mer'Tah from its scabbard. Tyananna had never seen her Master without a shirt on – but he looked exactly as she expected him to. His body was covered in tattoos, some of which were obviously very old. But his skin was smooth and there were no traces of any scars of any kind. He had the body of a young, strong man. She gaped at his chest as he was making a bun, with Lady Tarralyanna jumping to her feet and helping him. He did not speak to them; but he did not need to. However, something in his behaviour worried Tyananna. He took his pendant off and gave it to Lady Tarralyanna, who took it from him with a puzzled expression on her face. Why would he take it off?

"I am proud of all of you," he said, turning to them. "You brought glory to Darkness. Continue to do so, my apprentices. Do not forget who you are; do not forget me; and know, that I will always be with you. Shesh'tah."

"Shesh'tah," the three repeated in unison, gaping at him.

Tyananna followed him to the edge of the clearing with her heart hammering against her ribs. Surely he was coming back? Surely he was going to kill master Quallath? Lady Tarralyanna placed a hand on her shoulder and cast one serious glance at her. Tyananna knew that she had to remain impartial, that she had to remain calm. They had already won; and the world belonged to Darkness. So why would anything happen now?

As the Dark Lord walked out on the clearing with his weapon in his hand, master Quallath followed him with his glance, unable to believe his eyes. He had not seen the Dark Lord without his hood on yet. He was an ageless man, looking as though he was just as old as his apprentices were. And yet, if had been teaching them since they were three, he had to be at least twice as old as they were. The Dark side clearly did not destroy flesh, he concluded – but rather gave it eternal youth. But his face! He was a beautiful man and there was no other word for it. His features were noble and gentle and his thin lips, the only thing master Quallath could see until now, were now a straight line.

"How old are you, Dark Lord?" master Quallath asked.

It was a strange question to be asked in such a moment, no doubt about it. But master Quallath no longer needed to pretend, he no longer tried to wheedle out as much information as he could about the Sith from the Dark Lord. The Jedi were already defeated and he saw no reason why the Dark Lord would not answer his question.

The Dark Lord spun his weapon in his hand and smirked at him.

"How old are _you_, master Quallath?" he asked in turn. "You tell me your age and I shall tell you mine."

"I am eighty two," master Quallath said readily. "And you?"

"I am eighty seven," the Dark Lord answered.

Master Feth's eyes widened, but master Quallath looked as though he expected such an answer.

The Dark Lord lifted his weapon and the Jedi held their breaths. However, it was master Quallath who made the first move. He ran toward the Dark Lord, who lifted his strange weapon in the air and the two blades clashed against each other. They did not seem to be reluctant to get close to each other and for a few long, agonising moments, all everyone else could see were two dots, one black and one brown, moving around each other so fast they were a blur, with occasional clanks of metal echoing the clearing. Master Feth joined in with a yell and for a while he stood right beside master Quallath, while the Dark Lord fought with both of them at the same time.

However, at some point, something curious happened. Was it a trick of the Force, the Jedi asked themselves? Or did they feel a fist of the light side itself, knocking him down? Either way, they could see master Feth lying on the grass, blood sliding down his temple. He was obviously unconscious.

But there could be no talk of a duel. The Sith could not see anything with their physical eyes and they tried to follow what was going on through the Force. The Dark side was thundering around the Dark Lord with such force, that the very picture of the Dark Lord looked distorted. Master Quallath lifted a hand, sending the Force toward the Dark Lord. The hand of the light cut through space like a knife and the Dark Lord responded, sending a wave of destructiveness which swallowed it. The Jedi had never seen anything like it. This was power; this was the end of the world in the true meaning of the word.

Quallath lifted his both hands, creating a sort of a Force shield, which he turned against the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord disappeared from where he was standing and the Jedi gasped. Of course, he had forbidden his apprentices to use such tricks, since he wanted to show their superiority without them. The following moment he reappeared behind master Quallath and unleashed his Force Lightning. The three Sith watched, breathless – this was the first time they had seen their Master in a clean duel. However, this was no fighting, they thought – it was something much more than that. Force Lightning exploded from the Dark Lord's fingers and spread through the clearing faster than thought. It was very difficult to see what was happening. A few trees caught on fire and the Jedi themselves threw themselves upon the ground, to avoid getting hit by a branch. However, the Sith could clearly sense sparks in the Dark side as master Quallath got hit in the chest and fell over.

"SHESH'TAH!" the three Sith screamed in unison as the sparks and the silver lightning slowly dissipated.

The Jedi got to their feet and searched with their glances for master Quallath. His motionless figure was lying on the grass and his dead eyes were directed at the heavens. The Dark Lord stood without his sword in hand in the middle of the clearing, staring at master Quallath's body. His expression did not reveal any emotion, but the Sith could clearly feel his triumph. They could feel it in the Dark side, which was swirling around the clearing like a dark cloud. It was everywhere. Only now the Sith could understand what he meant when he said that Darkness would rule the world.

The glance of the Dark Lord fell upon master Feth, who was still lying where he fell. The Jedi, not trying to hide their tears, ran toward the body of master Quallath and some of them threw themselves on the ground beside him and dissolved into sobs. The three Sith bated their breaths, staring at the Dark Lord. The Dark side was on the move. Something was going on.

The ground began to tremble and the very clouds seemed to be vibrating, shaking, as something seemed to be struggling to pass through. Wind began to blow stronger and stronger until the branches of the trees started bending down as though they were nothing more than toothpicks. The three Sith looked up to the sky as well. Every blade of grass, every branch of a tree, watched in awe as a long, black cone began to slowly descend from the sky. It was the exact same cone which once spread destruction across the world and created the Black Tower. It extended from the sky like a finger and descended lower and lower. The Jedi screamed, staring at it, but Tyananna was not looking at them. Her eyes were fixed upon her Master.

The Dark Lord picked up his sword and began to walk toward the black cone, which was now nearly touching the ground. His hair was whipping around him like a lash, but he did not seem to notice it at all. As Tyananna jumped, meaning to go to him, Lord Tammutyen grabbed her for her elbow and held her firmly. And then... the three Sith heard his voice through the Dark side.

'My work is now done,' he told them placidly. 'I have fulfilled my mission. Today we have extinguished the Light, my apprentices. Bring glory to Darkness and a new era to Horukaan. Shesh'tah.'

Tyananna screamed, realising what he was about to do; but four arms gripped her firmly from behind. The Dark Lord spread his arms and an ear-splitting thunder shook the world. When Tyananna next looked up, her master was gone.

Thunderous silence fell upon the world. Tyananna's stomach clenched and grief and sorrow the like of which she never felt in her life pervaded her. With an inhuman effort, she pushed Lord Tammutyen and Lady Tarralyanna away and sprinted toward the black cone, screaming. But there was nothing left of the Dark Lord, only a circle of singed grass which was still smoking. She searched for him frantically with her glance and then with the Dark side, but she could not feel him. He was gone. As it became clear to her what just happened, she dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands.

"MASTER!" she screamed atop of her lungs.

Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen approached her slowly, wearing matching serious expressions and placed their hands on her shoulders. Tyananna tried to shake them off, but they knelt down beside her. The black cone was slowly dissipating and the wind and the unnatural coldness disappeared. The Jedi still knelt beside master Quallath's body, whereas some stood with master Feth, who was now awake, and stared at the three Sith.

"Why?" Tyananna whispered, shaking uncontrollably. "Why?"

Slowly, Lady Tarralyanna put her arms around her and Tyananna's head sank on her chest. The blue eyes looked across Tyananna at Lord Tammutyen, who was staring at the black circle. The world belonged to Darkness all right; and it was never going to be the same.


	54. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I write because I can't help myself. :)

My story is now complete and my work is done. There is a sequel, but I have never finished writing it. Perhaps I will.

Cassie

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Epilogue

The lone planet which revolved around three suns, called Horukaan, was slowly getting ready for the night. The third sun, called Heh'Glah, was slowly sinking behind the horizon as the citizens of the Empire retreated into their houses.

The Sith Temple had been rebuilt; and it stood in all of its magnificence upon the slopes of the lake in the province of Gotan, beside the Black Tower, the sight of which still awed and frightened the people of Horukaan. People from all across the Empire travelled to see the seat of the Empire, but they could only see the Sith Temple and the Black Tower from afar, since no one was allowed to come even close. The travellers could clearly see a massive building made entirely of black marble with a single tower in the middle, on the top of which burned a black fire, which seemed to be impervious to all weather conditions. They could also see a large obelisk in the courtyard of the Sith Temple, which was covered in Sith glyphs. It was erected there in the memory of the Dark Lord of the Third Age and the master of the three people who lived in the Temple and ruled the Empire.

Lady Tarralyanna of the Sith was sitting on one of the balconies of the Sith Temple with Lord Tammutyen, drinking coffee and staring at the Imperial mansion which stretched further toward the south. The lake glistened in the last rays of the third sun, resembling a large ink blotch. The world was getting ready for bed, but for the Sith the day had just begun. The black banners of the Empire hung on all spires of the Imperial mansion, flogging in the wind, tokens of their life's work and accomplishments.

Lady Tarralyanna turned to look at Lord Tammutyen. The world aged; but they did not. They carried on with their work where they left it before the war. The three Sith followed the same routine as always and honoured the ancient traditions of the Sith. Together they wrote new laws and established their rule even in the farthermost corners of the world. They transformed the world with their own hands – but there was still work to be done.

"Your Eminences," said a quiet voice from the door leading to the terrace.

A Malaskian slave sank into a low bow.

"Master Feth and the Jedi have arrived. They are waiting for you in the atrium, your Eminences."

"Tell them we are on our way," Lady Tarralyanna replied.

She looked at Lord Tammutyen and lifted her eyebrows at him.

"We should better fetch Tiya," she said quietly. "She needs to be present at the meeting as well."

As she was currently working with the Dark side, it was not hard to locate her. She was in the training hall, the place where she spent most of her time. Malaskian slaves stood everywhere, holding swords and various accessories she needed for her training. They jumped as the door opened, whereas Tyananna angrily turned around, hissing with annoyance for being interrupted.

"The Jedi are here," Lady Tarralyanna said.

"You go," she snapped, rubbing her hands with white powder.

"Will you come later, then?" Lady Tarralyanna asked quietly.

Tyananna was still not over the death of her Master and even though so much time had elapsed, even though the will of the Dark side had been done, still there was this gaping void within her heart which nothing could fill. Not even the finest jewels, not even the kneels of the numerous kings and queens of the imperial provinces, who came to the seat of the Empire to express their allegiance to the Emperor and the two Empresses, not even the largest bed covered in black could make her feel whole again. Her heart still ached; and she felt empty on the inside. She tried to create diversions for herself by training obsessively and the effects of her work were clearly visible on her body.

"Perhaps," she whispered.

Lady Tarralyanna nodded and closed the door behind her. Tyananna leaned over the water bowl and splashed her face, trying to compose herself. But it was in vain. She cursed loudly in Sith and turned around.

"I cannot work any more," she hissed at the Malaskian slaves. "Leave."

She stormed off to her chambers and there collapsed in an armchair, burying her face in her hands.

"Oh, Master," she breathed, looking up to the ceiling. "Why did you have to go? Why?"

She cried for perhaps ten minutes, grief and sorrow resurfacing once again within her. At some point, however, she heard a faint call through the Dark side. She lifted her head and looked around, wiping her face with her sleeve. She took off her boots, threw them on the floor and entered her meditation chamber.

There she found all of the candles burning, to her great surprise. She was certain she extinguished them after her meditation. She looked around herself as she felt a presence in the room, what made her enter the chamber in the first place. The presence seemed to be hovering around the altar and she lowered herself on the cushion which stood in front of it.

"Master?" she whispered to the space around her.

An inexplicable spicy fragrance, which once hovered around the Dark Lord, spread through the room and pervaded every nook and cranny. She took a deep breath, tears streaming down her face. Her broad back shook as she realised he was there.

'I am very pleased with your development, my apprentice,' whispered a voice from the Dark side.

Tyananna closed her eyes and smiled. She could not remember when she felt this happy.

'Despite of my absence, you are still developing and growing,' he whispered on. 'I am proud of you, Tyananna.'

The flame of the candle burning on the altar flickered, but Tyananna kept her eyes closed in order to be able hear his voice better.

'I have not abandoned you,' the spirit of the Dark Lord whispered on, as though answering her thoughts. 'Have I not promised I would always be there for you? Have I not said I would always watch over you?'

"You have," she whispered, trembling.

'Go and meet with the Jedi,' the Dark Lord said. Tyananna could feel his hand brushing against her cheek. 'Speak to them. And then, my apprentice, you will get ready for your Ceremony of the Coming. Lady Tarralyanna and Lord Tammutyen will tell you what to do. Leave a throne for the Dark Lord in the west – for he shall be there.'

And before Tyananna, who was beside herself with joy, could say or do anything, his presence was gone. But the candle on the altar with a large symbol representing the Dark side hanging over it was still burning. Tyananna closed her eyes again and wrapped her fingers around her medallion. He would be there...


End file.
